


delaying time

by kyou_kan



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Deities, Demon Hunters, Demons, Dragons, Hellhounds, M/M, Minor Character Death, Oikawa Tooru's Knee Injury, POV Alternating, no beta we die like men, references to human trafficking, references to poaching, references to slavery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-27
Updated: 2020-11-19
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:06:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 29,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22437643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kyou_kan/pseuds/kyou_kan
Summary: A child trickster god is taken in by a village; he is to bless their harvests in exchange for a place to stay. Here, he meets the village's resident water god, who seems reluctant to show his face to the villagers.A young dragon wakes to find that his parents have not returned to the den; two fae visit him the very same day. The fae despise dragons, but it would seem that there may be some exceptions to the rule.A demon hunter in training has somehow befriended a member of the species that he is training to kill. This demon has released his hellhound, even knowing that it would be cause for a witch hunt on the servant class.As all the stories unfold, one threat becomes incredibly prominent: the demon king and queen, along with many supporters, are planning a massive attack on the world in which the humans live. To stop the attack from occurring, a group of powerful creatures must be brought together to launch a counterattack before it happens.
Relationships: Hanamaki Takahiro/Matsukawa Issei, Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru, Kindaichi Yuutarou/Kunimi Akira, Kyoutani Kentarou/Yahaba Shigeru
Comments: 27
Kudos: 61





	1. The Beginning

“What a freak!”

The words hurt when they hit, though it did nothing to prepare the boy for the searing cold of the water that made contact with his body when he was shoved _hard_ into the river behind him, the weight of his wings carrying him into the water.

Before he knew it, he was rapidly sinking beneath the surface of the rushing water of the village river, the weight of his wings and rags dragging him down quicker than his small body could fight. What hurt more than the cold was the sensation of water entering his lungs when he reflexively gasped in response to the cold.

Blistering pain quickly turned to fear as he realized he might die here. Feathers and clothing got heavy when they were soaked through with water, and they kept dragging him down, down, _down_.

A weight seemingly heavier than that of his drenched wings collided with the boy’s back and began pushing him up. He opened his eyes to find the source of the weight, and even in the darkness of the water in the night, his gaze was met with the dark gaze of another looking at his face over his shoulder.

He broke the surface of the water and the weight of the other left him; the water itself now seemed to pull the boy towards land, where he crumpled to his hands and knees and hacked up the water that he had inhaled in his panic. The owner of those dark eyes soon joined him in the grass and sat quietly beside him until he lifted his head, chest heaving from the exertion of choking up water.

“What happened?” the other asked him.

His voice sounded young, much like the boy himself.

“Someone pushed me,” the boy said tentatively, gaze stuck to the ground between them.

“I know,” the other boy said, “but why?”

“I’m a freak.”

“You are?”

The question drew the boy’s attention up to the face of the other, where he saw those same dark, hooded eyes. His thick eyebrows were raised in concern, his lips pursed as though he were thinking hard about what had been said. Beyond that, what drew the boy’s attention the most was the fact that the other had patches of white scales that shone teal in the moonlight on his tanned skin. Underneath his eyes, on his shoulders and neck, reach down to his chest and perhaps even to his back. His dark, curly hair almost hid two white horns that curled back from his head. Extending behind him was a white tail with teal webbing on the fins and spines. He slowly reached up with hands that bore the same teal webbing between his fingers, and those fingers lightly brushed along the pale, lightly freckled skin of the boy’s cheek.

“I don’t think you are,” he said softly, and he withdrew his hand. “What’s your name?”

“Hanamaki Takahiro,” the boy said, gaze falling once more.

“Well, Hanamaki. I’m Matsukawa Issei.” Matsukawa extended a hand for Hanamaki, which he hesitantly accepted. For some reason, this drew a laugh out of Matsukawa. “Silly, you’re supposed to shake my hand.”

His grasp turned firm and he gave Hanamaki’s hand an upward shake. The strawberry blond was quick to imitate the gesture.

“By the way, I like your wings,” Matsukawa said, and he leaned to the side to peek behind Hanamaki before adding, “and your tail. Your horns are really small. And the facial markings are cool. What are they?”

At this, Hanamaki squirmed and ducked his head slightly, “They’re trickster markings.”

He half expected a surprised or even disgusted response from Matsukawa, but all he got was a thoughtful hum.

“Is that why they pushed you in?” Matsukawa asked after a moment.

“Yeah, they say that tricksters are bad,” Hanamaki said, hesitantly lifting his gaze towards the other’s.

“ _Are_ you bad?” Matsukawa leaned towards Hanamaki, dark gaze searching his eyes.

“I don’t want to be bad.” He couldn’t help leaning away at the sudden close proximity.

Matsukawa smiled and leaned back, as if there was nothing to be worried about. “Then you’re not bad.”

“Is it really that simple?”

“It should be. If you don’t want to be a certain way, then why would you be like that?”

Hanamaki wrung his hands in his lap and glanced towards them. “... I don’t know.”

“Then you’re not bad.” Came Matsukawa’s firm response.

In the distance, the sound of raised voices resounded. Matsukawa looked towards the disturbance and fled to the water.

Hanamaki was alone again.

The voices got closer; Hanamaki could now hear the sounds of a child shouting at whoever the raised voice belonged to. He couldn’t help the pang of fear that struck him as they neared him, nor the shaking that wracked his body — both from fear and biting cold.

“Is this where you did it?” shouted a voice that belonged to an adult.

“Why does it matter?” spat the child, voice brimming with hatred. “He’s a _trickster_!”

Hanamaki could see them, and there was no doubt that they could see him. In fact, the adult had fallen quiet at the sight of him.

“See?” the child shouted, pointing an accusatory finger at Hanamaki. “He’s a freak!”

After a moment longer, the adult brought the flat of his hand down on the back of the child’s head, causing Hanamaki to jump and scramble backwards, pausing only when his tail made contact with the water. The kid wailed and clutched at the spot he’d been hit, swatting at the adult with the other, who now had grabbed onto his arm to hold him in place.

“Haru!” the adult shouted, this time with more strength, which caused the boy to recoil with a sob. “Would you harm our dear river god?”

‘River god’? Was that what Matsukawa was?

After another whine of protest, the boy — named Haru — gave a reluctant, “No!”

“Then why would you go pushing a deity into the river at night?” The adult placed more emphasis on the words ‘deity’ and ‘at night’, as if that would get the child to relent.

“Because he’s a trickster!” Haru seemed very intent on winning this battle.

“A trickster deity is _very_ different from a trickster demon,” the adult said in a firm tone.

“How can you tell the difference?” This time, Haru was practically shrieking the question.

He was not happy that the adult wasn’t letting him win.

“Look at those wings and that tail! The markings are of a trickster, but the wings and tail are of a deity. Trickster deities are extremely rare to come across, especially when they’re this young, and it’s because of people _like you_ that they’ve begun to dwindle so much.”

“‘People like me’? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You looked at the markings on his face and did what with that information?”

“I pushed him into the water.” Now, the boy spoke quietly.

“If it wasn’t for our river god, he would have died.”

Now, the adult turned to Hanamaki, pointedly ignoring the grumbling that came from the child.

“Are you okay?” he asked in a tone much softer than the one he’d been using with Haru.

Hanamaki gaped at him for a moment, his mouth opening and closing, not too dissimilar from a fish. When he finally regained his composure, Hanamaki nodded quickly. “Matsukawa saved me.”

“‘Matsukawa’?” the adult repeated. “Ah. You mean our river god.”

“You worship a god without knowing his name?” Hanamaki asked.

He meant no disrespect by it; it was an honest question. While the child mocked him for asking, the adult seemed to take the question at face value.

“No, we do know his name. We just don’t use it too often because he may respond when called.”

The adult let go of Haru and approached Hanamaki in long, quick strides. He reached down, grabbed Hanamaki’s arm, and pulled him to his feet. Hanamaki was getting the feeling that this man wasn’t too gentle with anyone, given the tight grasp on his wrist and the rough tug he was given.

That, or he was worried about Hanamaki trying to run away.

He followed the man, nonetheless, back to what appeared to be the heart of the village, if the giant golden bell hanging over a large stone well was anything to go on. He was cleaned up, in public, and given new clothes. Then, the man showed Hanamaki to the other members of the village, all the while clutching onto his wrist and yanking him this way and that.

“This child is a trickster deity,” he would say. “Haru pushed him into the river, but our beloved river god saved him.”

“There must have been a reason,” the people would respond. “Our river god does not save just anyone.”

But Matsukawa seemed good, at least to Hanamaki. He seemed like he would save anyone who fell into the river. He even seemed like he would bring people’s possessions back to the shore if they were lost in his waters.

After Hanamaki was shown to enough people, he was dragged to stand in front of a group of people who wore cloaks that covered their faces; he had noticed that they had started coming outside as the chatter about the new deity started to grow in volume.

“This trickster god was found near the river,” the man said loudly, like a preacher speaking to his followers. “He was pushed into the river by one of our village’s children, and it was the river god who rescued him. The people of our village believe that he was saved by the river god for a reason.”

Hanamaki couldn’t help feeling like some kind of prop being shown in front of people who would potentially want to buy him.

The bruising grasp on his wrist never left, nor did it loosen to give him any reprieve.

The cloaked people spoke softly amongst each other, and it was quite a lengthy discussion. Hanamaki’s feet were starting to hurt; not wearing any shoes didn’t help the situation.

Finally, one cloaked figure stepped away from the group and turned back towards the two who stood before them.

“What does this trickster god have to offer us?” the figure asked in an even voice; it was at this point that Hanamaki realized that it was an elderly woman.

At this, the man holding Hanamaki’s wrist faltered.

What would they do if he could provide them with nothing? Would they kick him out? Or might they kill him?

Hanamaki didn’t want to be hunted.

He had already experienced it once.

“I-” Hanamaki cut himself off when he felt the piercing gazes of the cloaked people on him.

“Speak, child,” the woman said in a surprisingly gentle tone.

“I can help plants grow!” Hanamaki blurted. “They grow faster, but they stay healthy and happy! I can help you with your harvests!”

After a moment, one of the cloaked people — a man — behind the woman shouted, “Show us!”

At that, his wrist was released and he quickly crouched over a crack in the concrete. He moved to hover his hands over it, closing his eyes as he reached out to find a plant that wanted to be free.

His hands hovered there for a moment, his mind frantically searching, and only growing more frantic as more time stretched on without anything reaching out to him. A soft whisper, a plea for freedom, pulled at the edges of his mind, and he latched onto it and whispered to the plant that was calling out to him, coaxing it to come to him.

From his hands came a soft green glow, and up danced a bundle of flowers from the crack in the concrete. This drew plenty of gasps from everyone watching, even those who were not part of the group of cloaked people. As Hanamaki withdrew his hands, the plant continued to give off a warm, happy glow for a few seconds more, its voice remaining in his mind to give him thanks. 

As he stood back up, the man snagged his wrist again and yanked him closer to himself; Hanamaki had to stop himself from giving a whine as his bruising wrist was captured once more in that iron hold. He wasn’t going to run off or anything, and his juvenile feathers hadn’t moulted just yet, so it wasn’t like he would be particularly good at flying right now.

Once more, the cloaked people turned to talk amongst each other. Eventually, Hanamaki heard what sounded like affirmation from them. The woman at the front turned to the man again.

“Until he has a shrine, allow him to stay with you,” she said. “Once a shrine has been built for him, he will be sent to live comfortably there, where he will be provided food, comfort, and the freedom to do as he chooses.”

“Of course,” the man said.

He released Hanamaki’s wrist and got to his knees, placing his palms flat on the ground and bowing so low that his forehead nearly touched the concrete below.

Hanamaki glanced between the man and the cloaked group, and unsure of what to do, he bowed as well. A light touch on his shoulder drew his gaze up to the cloaked woman who stood before him.

The woman removed her hood to reveal kind, crow-footed eyes that gazed down at Hanamaki; the kindness in those eyes was highlighted by the light, amused smile that she wore. The wrinkles around her mouth told Hanamaki that she smiled a lot; she must have been a very kind woman.

“A deity needn’t bow to a mere human,” she said, her voice gentle.

Hesitantly, Hanamaki stood once more.

"My name is Lady Hofu," she said with a gentle smile as he straightened. "What is your name?"

"It's," he paused to wring his hands nervously together, "Hanamaki."

“It's so lovely to make your acquaintance. Oh, and Koboyashi?” She took Hanamaki’s hand in a gentle hold and examined the bruise that had formed at the rough treatment before turning her attention back to the man, who was also standing back to his feet. “Please refrain from dragging him around. I trust that he won’t do anything reckless, and neither should you.”

At this, the man’s lips drew into a thin line, but he nodded anyway.

He looked down at Hanamaki and said, “Follow me.”

Hanamaki followed Koboyashi with a slight frown.

He didn’t want to live with him; he wanted to stay by the river and talk to Matsukawa.

In a cave miles away from the village, a young dragon awoke to the rising sun to find that he and his siblings were all alone. He was the oldest of the four, and all of his siblings were still too young to fend for themselves.

He didn’t dare leave his siblings alone in the cave; dragons were often hunted, even if they posed no threat to humans. Young dragons never survived long on their own.

He did, however, peek his head out of his family den to take a glance around.

To the left, within view of his family’s den was a forest that his parents had often warned him to stay away from; it was home to the fae, a dangerous species that disliked dragons. He was told that, if he ventured into the forest, he wouldn’t get back home.

Despite that, it seemed like there was one member of the fae who liked the dragon. He was annoying and loud, but the dragon had known him for longer than he could remember. He usually stopped by multiple days a week, sometimes multiple times in one day. It was a lot, but the dragon would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy the fae’s company.

On the other side of that forest was a bustling city.

To the right was a river that ran all the way from another village. According to his parents, that village housed a deity of some sort. He had never met it, but they claim to have done so. They had informed him that he should approach the river if he would like to do the same.

Where _were_ his parents?

The sun was rising. They usually came back to the den by the time the sun peeked over the horizon. Behind him, his sister stirred, drawing his attention back to the nest. She watched him with tired, questioning eyes. He moved back to her side and looked out towards the mouth of the den again.

He just hoped that his parents were safe; hunters were getting fiercer with each passing generation.

“Oikawa-san!”

A puff of breath left his lungs as the younger called for him, but he turned to him with a smile and bright eyes in spite of his annoyance.

“Yes, Yahaba?” he said in a practiced chipper tone.

“Can I come with you?” Yahaba asked.

He was trying, and failing, to look dignified. At eleven years old, it was a little difficult for a fae to look as dignified as the younger was going for.

Though, Oikawa supposed he could say the same about himself. He was only a year older than his junior, after all.

“Of course you can! I always love to flaunt my skills! Bonus points to me if people can learn from it.” He grinned and winked at Yahaba, who seemed to miss the point of the wink, if the subtle tilt of his head was anything to go on. Oikawa rolled his eyes and cast his gaze to the side. “You can study off of me, but you have to keep in mind that each of us has our own magic; you can’t just _copy_ me.”

Yahaba smiled and nodded. “Of course I won’t copy you. I just want to observe what you do so I can refine my own skills.”

Just last week, before Yahaba had likely ever considered approaching Oikawa, he had heard Yahaba talking to someone else about how skilled Oikawa was.

In fact, he thought he remembered the older fae whom Yahaba was speaking to saying something about how Oikawa was “leaps and bounds” beyond his peers, and “almost at the level of a general.”

The praise made his heart sing, but he knew that there was more that he could do. His older sister was much stronger than he was.

“Oh, don’t forget to bring along my favorite snack as payment!”

Yahaba’s eyes widened a fraction. Oikawa could see panic swimming in them, no matter how Yahaba tried to cover it up. This drew a laugh out of the older.

“It’s milk bread, silly!” he practically sang.

With that, Oikawa practically skipped in the direction of the training building, though he gave pause when he didn’t hear Yahaba following. The younger fae stared at him with stunned eyes for a moment before shaking his head and letting out a huff of bewildered laughter.

“I’ll be right there,” he called after Oikawa.

After their shared training session, Oikawa had left with his milk bread in hand with the promise of being back later.

Of course, Yahaba _had_ asked to tag along; the kid was pretty much glued to Oikawa’s hip. It made sense, given that his parents were no longer around, but Oikawa couldn’t help being a little annoyed every now and then. He was the youngest of his family, yet his parents still expected him to act like an adult; on top of that, he now had to act like an older brother when he wasn’t one.

It did make him wonder: would he make a good older brother?

Probably not.

After an hour’s walk, his destination came into view. It was a fairly large cave, one which he knew housed more members of a family than he had in his own home. However, once he got close enough, the sound of rapid, panicked breathing became evident. It was more than enough to drop a weight in his gut.

Something was wrong.

Oikawa turned to Yahaba and put a finger to his lips, to which Yahaba responded by nodding rapidly. He looked frightened; Oikawa didn’t blame him.

He quickly approached the cave, eyes on the ground to make sure his footfalls were as quiet as possible.

A peek inside told him everything he needed to know: his friend’s parents had not come home.

This was going to be a tough ride.

Slowly, Oikawa stepped into the cave, and even in spite of how quiet he was, his mere presence seemed to alert the eldest of the dragons.

The source of the hyperventilation.

His head snapped up from where it lay, pupils blown wide in alarm. Once his gaze landed on Oikawa, he lashed out with an anguished cry, which Oikawa easily deflected with his magic.

“Iwa-chan!” Oikawa cried.

The dragon’s movements halted, but only for a moment. He quickly dropped himself to the ground — a defensive position — and pressed himself back so that his wings were draped protectively over his younger siblings. His expression conveyed more pain than Oikawa could bear to see on him.

“Iwa-chan, please calm down,” Oikawa said in a much softer tone. “It’s me; you know who I am. What happened? Do you know?”

The dragon let out a low whine and dropped his chin to the ground. He shifted so that his back was to Oikawa — he didn’t want to talk. Oikawa only huffed at this and stepped forward once more.

“Please talk to me,” he murmured as he shifted ever closer and laid a hand on the dragon’s neck.

Another whine echoed throughout the den, but the dragon began to stand once more. With several cracks and pops, his form began to shift to that of a boy around Oikawa’s age.

It was incredibly rare for Oikawa to see him in this form; dragons rarely changed to their human forms, since they were more vulnerable to attacks when they did. It was easy for him to forget that his friend kept his wings, tail, horns, claws, and sharp teeth. The steel scales that peppered his body was something that Oikawa often missed.

He sat on the ground and wrapped his wings and tail around himself, head down as he failed to meet Oikawa’s eye.

A small gasp at the mouth of the den reminded Oikawa that Yahaba had tagged along; this new development upset Oikawa’s friend once more, and he was crouched low to the ground with his wings splayed out to his sides and his tail raised. He growled low in the back of his throat, a warning to Yahaba to stay away.

“Woah, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa said in a soothing tone. “This is Yahaba; he studies magic under me. Yahaba, this is Iwa-chan.”

“It’s _Iwaizumi_ ,” the other hissed, slowly rising from his defensive position.

“You’re,” Yahaba paused to swallow back some fear, “friends with a dragon?”

“Yep!” Oikawa chirped. “We’ve been friends for years now. His family is pretty gentle, compared to other dragons. Now,” Oikawa turned his attention back to his friend, “Iwa-chan, what happened?”

Iwaizumi gave another growl, though this one was less of a warning and more of an expression of pain. He pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes — hard — and curled in on himself.

“I don’t know!” he exclaimed after a moment. “I woke up and they were gone. They’re usually back by sunrise. I’m afraid…”

Iwaizumi trailed off and his wings curled tighter around his body, almost as if they were hugging him. He looked so small; the sight squeezed Oikawa’s heart.

A small whimper from the back of the den snapped Iwaizumi’s attention away from the current situation; one of his younger siblings was beginning to stir. The eldest of the four shifted back into his dragon form and moved to nudge at one of the youngest, eliciting another small noise from him.

His siblings must have been hungry; it was way beyond sunrise at this point, and Iwaizumi’s parents always arrived _at_ sunrise with food for them. The two youngest had hatched a mere two weeks prior to today; the next oldest had hatched four years ago. None of them were old enough to hunt — they couldn’t even change their forms like Iwaizumi could.

Iwaizumi gave a small grumble and dashed out of the den.

“Iwa-chan, wait!” Oikawa cried; it fell on deaf ears. Quietly, he added, “There will be more hunters out during the day…”

A mere half an hour later, Iwaizumi came back with more than enough raw meat to feed his siblings. It would leave a small portion for the oldest, but he seemed intent on making sure his younger siblings would be fed first.

Oikawa fixed Iwaizumi with a frown and said, “You know you’ll need more food to keep up your strength so that you can support them, right?”

This earned him an annoyed huff as Iwaizumi crouched down by his siblings to help them with whatever they couldn’t eat on their own.

Not even ten minutes later, as the dragons were finishing with their food, something big landed on top of the den. Iwaizumi’s attention snapped upwards, his hackles rising in defense.

Oikawa felt his stomach knotting; that sounded like another dragon. For how big it was, it was probably an adult. Adolescent dragons were big, but they were nowhere near as big as their adult counterparts.

The den shook with a low rumbling, a sound that Oikawa was certain was coming from the dragon atop the cave. He glanced to where Iwaizumi was to see him standing up and creeping towards the mouth of the den.

“Iwa-chan,” he hissed as he reached for Yahaba and pushed him behind himself.

Iwaizumi’s gaze flitted to Oikawa just long enough to register the shake of his head before the head of the larger dragon entered the den.

Yeah, that was _definitely_ an adult.

It dropped down from its perch and began stalking into the den; Iwaizumi gave a low, threatening growl in response, his wings spread and tail lifted to make himself bigger and more imposing than he actually was.

Oikawa could see Iwaizumi’s muscles bunching up. He was getting ready to pounce.

Just before he launched himself at the invader, Oikawa called out for him. It was enough to draw the attention of the adult dragon to himself; adult dragons often killed young fae, but the look he was given was one of alarm.

Some dragons feared the fae, Oikawa realized.

This opening allowed for Iwaizumi to sink his teeth into his opponent’s throat, drawing a surprised cry from it. He twisted his body and turned it onto its back, pinning it to the ground by its throat. It began thrashing wildly about, but there was one thing that Iwaizumi had over it: he had front legs, whereas this adult used its wings to maneuver its surroundings. Wings made for a clumsy fighting strategy.

Iwaizumi was quick to grapple at one of its wings, and with a loud growl of great effort, tore it off. The cry it emitted was practically deafening; Oikawa could hear Iwaizumi’s siblings whimpering from where they cowered. Yahaba clutched to Oikawa’s arm and pressed his face against his back, trembling violently. Hell, even Oikawa found himself white-knuckling his clothes.

Just as quickly as it had started, the battle ended with Iwaizumi tearing savagely at the adult dragon’s throat. Once he was done, he dragged its corpse further into the den.

More food.

Iwaizumi turned his gaze to the fae and allowed himself to change back to his human form. The smearing of dark blood around his mouth was _charming_ , and it did nothing to calm Yahaba down. In fact, the sight seemed to rile him up more, if his near shrieking was anything to go by.

“Sorry about that,” Iwaizumi mumbled, though his eyes _burned_. As he continued speaking, he kicked at the dragon’s head with a dark glare turned to it. “I think that was what got at least one of my parents; I can smell my mom on it.”

“I guess it tracked her scent here to get an extra snack,” Oikawa said, earning a hiss from Iwaizumi. “Sorry, but that’s probably what happened.”

Oikawa then reached behind himself to pat Yahaba’s arm. He turned his attention back to Iwaizumi.

“As you know, we’re raised to believe that dragons are merciless, bloodthirsty creatures,” he said.

Iwaizumi only nodded, the look in his eyes now growing despondent as he sat down and folded his legs underneath him. “This didn’t help.”

“No,” Yahaba piped in breathlessly, “no, I’m okay. I just need a second.”

At this, Oikawa and Iwaizumi exchanged a look.

After a moment that stretched on long enough for Iwaizumi’s siblings to approach the new source of food to munch on, Yahaba finally got his breathing under control and lifted his gaze to Iwaizumi and said, “If Oikawa-san trusts you, I’m willing to do the same.”

“Is he your brother?” Iwaizumi asked, pointing to Yahaba as he locked eyes with Oikawa.

In his panic about his parents earlier, he had apparently missed the news of Yahaba being Oikawa’s _apprentice_.

This question drew a series of noises from Yahaba. They mostly sounded like… a dying bird.

As Iwaizumi’s expression shifted into one of concern, Oikawa decided to answer the question instead.

“No, we’re not related,” he said. “As I said earlier, he’s just my apprentice.”

Oikawa speaking seemed to calm Yahaba down, and he nodded furiously in affirmation.

Iwaizumi nodded. “I see.”

Oikawa moved to peek out of the den. The sky was awash in oranges, pinks, and purples; it was time for them to go.

“Yahaba,” Oikawa called and gestured for the younger to follow him.

The gesture was all Yahaba needed to get him to Oikawa’s side once more.

“Thank you for having us,” Yahaba said as he bowed at the hip.

Iwaizumi clicked his tongue at that, and Oikawa didn’t even need to look at him to know that he was shaking his head.

“It’s fine. You’re welcome back here any time. Thanks,” Iwaizumi took a deep, shuddering breath, “for being here.”

Oikawa turned his gaze back to his best friend, flashed him a grin, and held his hand up in a wave. “I’ll see you later, Iwa-chan!”

As the two left, Yahaba rushed to Oikawa’s side and gave him a scrutinizing look.

“Why do you call him that?” he asked.

“It’s cuter than calling him Iwaizumi,” Oikawa said with a wave of his hand. “That, and he’s cute.”

This earned a confused noise from Yahaba, but he said nothing more on the matter.

Two years later, in the city near the forest of the fae, a young boy of nine years old walked around the city with a book on hunting tactics clutched tightly to his chest. He had lost his mother in the crowd somehow and was stuck searching for her, his eyes stinging with tears as people hardly noticed him. He’d already been knocked over once, a bloody knee attesting to that, and people’s legs and feet kept getting in his way as he walked, threatening to trip him yet again.

He walked into an alleyway and crouched down, stifling a sob as he hugged the book tightly to his chest. His knee hurt, and he was so _scared_ being alone in this big, bustling crowd.

If only he was a strong hunter, like his dad. Then he wouldn’t get pushed down so easily.

A soft _whooshing_ sound to his right drew his attention away from his peril, the sight of what had made the noise lodging his heart into his throat.

A young demon observed him, pausing when his gaze landed on the book. After a few seconds, he continued with his observation and blinked when he saw the bloody knee the boy was sporting.

“You’re hurt,” he said evenly. “Don’t humans have parents to keep them safe? You don’t look like you belong to the streets; your distressed state tells me that you have been separated from your caretakers.”

The demon moved closer to the boy, who gave a sharp gasp and pushed himself further back against the wall.

This drew a soft hiss from the demon, though his expression remained fairly calm.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said pointedly. “I’m here to get out of that stuffy castle.”

Then, his gaze flitted to the side, towards the bustling streets, and his bones began to shift and crack, his horns, wings, and tail withdrawing into his body. His claws retracted and his pupils turned from slits into the round holes that humans have.

The sounds his transformation made nearly caused the boy to retch.

“I can help you find your caretakers,” he said once the process was done. “You should get that knee looked at, anyway. You humans are so susceptible to infection.”

The boy’s cheeks heated up at that, even in spite of the demon’s matter-of-fact manner of stating it; he clearly wasn’t mocking him, but it still felt like he was belittling him.

“If you’re not here to hurt me, then why are you talking to me?” the boy spat, eyes brimming with tears.

The demon tilted his head at the reaction and he sat back on his heels.

“Because you didn’t run away screaming the instant you saw me,” he said after a moment of thought. “What’s your name?”

The demon seemed nice enough, the boy found himself thinking.

He gave the demon a scrutinizing look before he answered.

“Kindaichi,” he said quietly.

“Ah, your family name,” the demon muttered with a nod. “I’m Kunimi. I’ll help you find your caretakers, if you’ll come with me.”

Kindaichi squinted at him.

“My _mom_ ,” he hissed.

“Oh,” Kunimi said.

He stood up and reached a hand down to Kindaichi, who found himself checking the offered hand for any claws or hidden points or something. When he saw nothing, he took the hand and pulled himself to his feet.

“If you don’t want to get separated, then hold on to me,” Kunimi said with one final glance towards Kindaichi.

Then, he pulled them out of the alleyway and walked with a certainty Kindaichi had lacked earlier. He weaved them through the crowd with such grace that Kindaichi found himself wondering if this demon was older than he was presenting himself as.

Kunimi tossed a glance over his shoulder.

“I’m your age,” he said, as though he could read Kindaichi’s thoughts. “I’ve gone through much more rigorous training and studying than you have, though. That, and I have magic at my disposal.”

Suddenly, Kindaichi was glad that no one was noticing the two children weaving their way through the crowd.

Eventually, Kindaichi spotted his mother. It was then that Kunimi released his hold on his hand, allowing the human to race towards his mother. When she spotted him, she stooped to capture him in her arms.

“Oh, Kindaichi,” she cried, “I was so worried! Are you okay?”

She leaned back to look him over, giving a frown when she saw his bloodied knee.

“Oh dear, let’s get you home so we can patch that up.”

She took his hand in hers and started walking in the direction of their home. When Kindaichi turned to thank Kunimi, he noticed that the other had disappeared.

A couple of days later, while Kindaichi was getting ready for bed, he heard a familiar _whooshing_ sound at the foot of his bed and turned towards the noise. Kunimi crouched, perched, on the table at the end of his bed.

He was in his human form.

“I finally found you,” he said quietly.

Kindaichi walked over to him, grabbing his arm and pulling him down from the end table. Kunimi landed quite softly, despite the floor being made of hardwood.

“What are you doing here?” he whispered. “My dad is a hunter; what if he finds you?”

“It’ll be okay.” Kunimi pulled his arm from Kindaichi’s grasp. “I came here because I know that you’ve got capable hunters in your family.”

Kindaichi’s eyes widened slightly. “What?”

“I’m the prince of the demon realm. My father is planning a massive attack on this realm; he wants to steal it from those who rule it so he can occupy it. I want to find someone who can help me stop that from happening.”

“But,” Kindaichi took a deep breath, “demons are bad, right? They don’t care about ravaging our realm or killing the people in it.”

Kunimi gave him a withering look. “Not all demons are bad. In fact, many of them are just like me — they don’t want something like this to come to fruition. Please help me stop this plan from seeing the light of day.”

“Okay.” Kindaichi nodded, moving to the kotatsu in the center of his room and sitting down at one of the sides. “I don’t think I can do anything, but I can pass the information on to my dad to see if he can.”

Kunimi nodded and moved to sit across from Kindaichi, his legs folded beneath him and his palms coming to rest on the table.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first creative writing piece in three years, so if it seems choppy or all over the place, then that would be why! Thank you so much for reading this far and be sure to leave a kudos and a comment if you enjoyed!
> 
> Also, check out [riumairu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Riumairu/pseuds/Riumairu)'s works! They're my lovely beta and helped to make sure things flowed easier in my writing ^^


	2. Denying Use

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Four years have passed since Hanamaki was taken in by the village and he and Matsukawa have spent much of their free time together, growing ever closer. During these four years, Hanamaki has not stepped one foot outside of the village.

It had been four years since Hanamaki had been taken into this little village. He was now sixteen years old. Truly, since he had joined their little community, they had seen abundant harvests.

Much of his free time he spent at the edge of the river, where Matsukawa would join him and they would chat until the moon flew high in the sky. A few months ago, they’d both noticed a change in the air; it felt supernatural, so their only guess was an imminent attack from the demons. Though they couldn’t figure out when it might happen, they had both taken to training their combat skills that came with their positions as deities to prepare themselves.

Since he had turned eleven, Hanamaki had taken a liking to an elegant dance that he had seen some of the villagers performing. Sometimes, traveling shows would perform the same dance, but in a much wider variety than he had seen from the villagers.

During his time in the shrine they had built for him, Hanamaki often practiced the various dances he had seen; it had proved to be difficult, especially as the growth of his wings began to outpace the growth of his own body.

Nonetheless, Hanamaki stubbornly kept up his attempts at perfecting the dance, figuring out ways to move his wings so that his movements flowed easier. About a year ago, he had finally invited Matsukawa to his shrine so he could watch.

Matsukawa had asked for a raincheck on the offer.

Recently, however, his feathers had begun to moult again. They did so about three or four times a year; it was normal for feathers to moult twice within a year, but his did so more frequently as a result of how quickly his wings were growing.

As of right now, Hanamaki stood at about six feet tall; his wings were growing to about twice that length. He hoped that would be the extent of their length; the pain from growing was almost unbearable, to the point that it was difficult to move his wings too much, and maintaining care of his wings was difficult when they were constantly moulting. That, and he had to take care while practicing his dances while they were moulting, as one careless move could break a blood feather.

Every time his feathers started moulting, Hanamaki would trail feathers wherever he went. His shrine was constantly being cleaned of feathers during these times. Seeing the villagers cleaning up his feathers never failed to send a pang of guilt barrelling into his gut, and more often than not, Hanamaki would offer to help; they always turned him down and said that it wasn’t much work in the first place.

Sighing at the mess of feathers scattered around and in his nest of blankets and pillows, Hanamaki turned to leave his shrine and trotted down to the river.

Before he was even three feet away from the water, Matsukawa popped his head out of the water, and one of his hands followed suit to give a wave. Hanamaki smiled and waggled his fingers to return the gesture.

He sat down next to the river with a plop and splayed his wings out at his sides. Matsukawa’s eyes lit up when he saw them, a grin spreading across his face.

“Your wings are so big now,” he observed.

Hanamaki rolled his eyes. “Yeah, they are. It’s a good thing I have hollow bones and air sacs, otherwise I’d be dragging everywhere from how heavy they are. That’s not to say that they’re super heavy or anything; they’re just getting heavier the bigger they get.”

“You have hollow bones and air sacs?” Matsukawa pulled himself further out of the water and tilted his head slightly. “Also, I would have  _ never _ guessed that something would get heavier as it gets bigger.”

“Uh,” Hanamaki deadpanned, “yeah.”

Before Matsukawa could say anything snarky, Hanamaki added, “I don’t know the exact science of it, but my bones are still strong enough because of some… stuff inside of them. And the air sacs are for storing oxygen.”

Matsukawa laughed at Hanamaki’s incredibly educational statement. “‘Stuff’? What’s that ‘stuff’ called?”

“I don’t know! Do you know anything about birds? The villagers have been doing research with magic and stuff, so they know more than I do!”

“So, you’re built like a bird?”

Hanamaki shrugged and nodded at the same time. What did he know beyond what the villagers had told him?

“Also, your wings are moulting again,” Matsukawa said matter-of-factly as he pointed behind Hanamaki, presumably to the trail of feathers.

Hanamaki rolled his eyes again and reached out to punch Matsukawa on the shoulder. “I  _ know _ , idiot!”

This drew a deep, hearty laugh from Matsukawa. It was one of Hanamaki’s favorite sounds. Since he had first met his best friend, Matsukawa had become more serious and almost withdrawn. Of course, he was still witty and enjoyed engaging in playful banter with Hanamaki, but he didn’t laugh or smile as much as he used to.

On top of that, he had grown so much. He stood only two inches taller than Hanamaki, but he looked arguably older than him, despite them being the same age.

Still, Matsukawa looked at Hanamaki with eyes that twinkled from amusement.

It was a nice look on him.

“You still haven’t visited my shrine,” Hanamaki said. “Are you not able to leave the water for long periods of time?”

“No, I can leave the water, it’s just,” Matsukawa paused to give a shrug, “it seems too fancy for me.”

The sound that Hanamaki made was indescribable.

Matsukawa’s expression was serious once more. “They offered to build a shrine for me as well, but I turned it down. I’m not much for golds, silvers, and such. That’s not to say that I feel any differently for you because you take their gifts; the gold suits you. I just don’t prefer it.”

“Well,” Hanamaki stuttered, “you can still visit my shrine. It might be overwhelming, but I feel like this relationship is entirely dependent upon me visiting you. It’s a lot of responsibility to carry a relationship, you know.”

Matsukawa snorted in amusement, his eyes crinkling at the edges just the slightest amount.

He sighed, then, and said, “Okay, I’ll stop by some time.” When Hanamaki gave him a scrutinizing look, he hurried to say, “It’ll be soon. Hell, I’ll probably stop by tomorrow or something, just so you’ll leave me alone about it.”

This made Hanamaki smile. He loved Matsukawa’s river, but he felt like Matsukawa might appreciate the cozy warmth of his shrine, too.

Matsukawa pulled himself out of the water so that he was sitting in front of Hanamaki, his tail curling around his body to rest across his lap. Hanamaki revelled in the way the light danced off of the scales, glittering white, aqua, and teal. He tipped his head to the side, gaze locked with Hanamaki’s own.

“How is your training going?” he asked, his voice soft; it was as though he was worried that someone from the village would hear them. “I know that it might be hard, since the villagers are more likely to pop into your shrine more than they are to swim in my water.”

“It’s going well,” Hanamaki said with a shrug. “I’ve never been a fan of using my trickster abilities, since it seems like it’s all the villagers want me for nowadays.”

“Lady Hofu wanted you for your skills with nature, right?” Matsukawa shifted towards Hanamaki, close enough that their knees were touching.

It made his heart jump into his throat. That had been happening a lot lately, though Hanamaki couldn’t be sure as to why. It wasn’t like physical contact was an abnormal thing between the two of them; although as of late, it seemed that physical contact between the two of them would cause some sort of strange physical reaction in Hanamaki.

Clearing his throat, he nodded. “Yeah. After she passed away last year, though, the villagers have been consistently bothering me about using my trickster abilities to punish anyone who bothers them in the slightest. Last week, they asked me to punish someone who had refused to buy a bundle of carrots for one hundred gold coins.”

Matsukawa only gave a soft hum in response. For a long while, he stared at the space between them, expression nigh unreadable, but Hanamaki could tell that he was thinking.

“You’re training  _ is _ going well, though,” Matsukawa finally looked up at Hanamaki again, “right?”

“Well, yeah,” Hanamaki snorted. “I already said that.”

“You should show me some of what you can do some time.” Matsukawa’s voice quivered slightly as he spoke. As Hanamaki squinted in the moonlight, he could see that the corners of the other’s lips had curled upwards ever so slightly.

“Sorry, but it’s not part of the show.” Hanamaki sighed and leaned back into his hands. “I can tell you what I can do, if that’ll suffice.”

Matsukawa brought his hand up to his chin to tap at it with two fingers in feigned thought. “I  _ guess _ that’ll work.”

Hanamaki reached forward and pressed his hand into Matsukawa’s shoulder in a playful shove with a laugh.

“I can create illusions big enough to fill this entire village,” he said as he leaned back once more. “In the two years that I’ve been training, my illusions have gotten to a point where they can ‘fight’, so to speak. They don’t cause actual damage, but they will be distracting to anyone who sees them. As of right now, I’ve been working on making one object or person seem like another; it would be enough to fool our theoretical opponents into fighting each other.”

Matsukawa grinned and nodded in approval. “That’s badass. Are you able to make sure other tricksters can’t get into your head?”

“I’m not sure that’s something I can do.” Hanamaki shook his head.

“It would be cool if you did. If we’re right, and this attack does end up happening at some point in the near future, trickster demons will be a real thing for you to worry about.”

“I know.” Hanamaki tossed his head back to let out a groan of frustration. “If I could train against another trickster, I could possibly learn from the things they do. As it stands, I’m the only trickster god around, so I don’t even know the limitations of my abilities.”

“Are you able to make people feel pain that isn’t there?” Matsukawa curled his fingers around the back of Hanamaki’s head and pulled it up so that their gazes could meet once more; Hanamaki nearly jumped into the air in his surprise. “You’re really jumpy now. Do the villagers hurt you?”

“No,” Hanamaki said, perhaps a little too quickly. “And also, I don’t know anything about creating phantom pains on people. I’ve never tried, and I have no one to try it on!”

“Try it on me,” Matsukawa said.

The words sounded so simple, but the implications of them caused Hanamaki to choke on his own spit. Testing something like that on Matsukawa would mean causing him pain, and that wasn’t something Hanamaki wanted to do.

“That is a big, fat no!” Hanamaki pushed Matsukawa’s hand from where it rested on the nape of his neck. “I know you’ll keep pressing the issue, so I’m going back to my shrine so that you can take some time to think about what you’ve done!”

Matsukawa’s eyes were wide, eyebrows pulled up. Hanamaki quickly stood up and turned to march to his shrine. As he walked, he heard the sound of his friend splashing back into the river.

Hanamaki was glad that they both knew how to respect each others’ boundaries, at least.

When Hanamaki went back to his shrine and went to sleep for the night, he had a nightmare about a hunter coming after him. It had been more than six years since he had actually been hunted, but the fear of it made the nightmares come back every now and then. Sometimes, they were worse than others.

He woke up early in the morning, thrashing about wildly. His wings slammed into walls, the floor, even the ceiling, causing him to draw them close to his body and curl up until he was able to calm himself down.

After his heart stopped hammering in his ears and he could finally breathe, Hanamaki slowly stood up and started scooting feathers into one large pile near the entrance to his shrine. He then brushed his teeth, washed his face, and sat back down in his nest of blankets and pillows to tend to his wings.

Some feathers that had already been falling out had been shaken loose by the flailing. As he pulled the loose ones out, Hanamaki noticed a warm, wet spot on his left wing. It made his blood run cold. His panic only increased as he pulled feathers aside to look closer at the spot and found that it was blood.

“Shit,” he hissed.

That was a broken blood feather.

If the villagers saw that, they would pull it. The thought made Hanamaki feel sick to his stomach. He would have to stop the bleeding before anyone else saw it.

But that was a lot of blood.

He took a deep breath in an attempt to calm himself down; panic would only make him bleed more, which would make this situation worse. After a moment, Hanamaki stood up and went to search around his shrine for something to help with the bleeding. When he didn’t find anything, he went down to the river and splashed a hand in the water to wake Matsukawa up.

The river deity popped his head out of the water, sleepy eyes latching onto Hanamaki’s alert, scared ones, and his own eyes widened a fraction as he pulled his upper half out of the water.

“What’s wrong?” he asked in a practiced level tone, but Hanamaki had known him for long enough to hear a slight, almost imperceptible tremble in his voice.

“I,” Hanamaki’s voice broke and he cleared his throat before he kept talking, “I had a really bad nightmare and broke a blood feather.”

Matsukawa’s eyebrows drew together in concern.

“What does that mean?” he asked carefully.

Trembling, Hanamaki slowly unfurled his wing to show Matsukawa to the ever-growing spot of blood. Matsukawa's eyes widened at this and he heaved himself out of the water.

"Go back to your shrine," he said hurriedly as he rushed around Hanamaki and into the village.

He did as he was told, sitting on the floor and trying to keep himself calm as he waited for the water deity to return. It's not like it hurt or anything. No, what had Hanamaki trembling and on the verge of tears was the panic at the amount of blood coming out of the thing. He knew that feathers attached themselves to blood vessels, tendons, and even bone deep below the wing's flesh, but this really put it into perspective.

Luckily, Hanamaki wasn't left to his panic for long. Not even a minute after he had settled on the floor, Matsukawa came bursting into his shrine. He was alone, Hanamaki realized, and it relieved him somewhat.

"Show me the broken blood feather," Matsukawa said as he moved to crouch in front of Hanamaki, who nodded.

Once more, he curled his wing in front of himself and pushed feathers out of the way to show the source of the bleeding. Matsukawa was quick to move to where he could see it. He then produced some cornstarch, which he pressed to the breakage in the feather.

His movements were quick, yet careful, and all the while, he radiated nothing but the same quiet calm that his river did.

Hanamaki found himself wondering if Matsukawa had done this before.

Soon enough, the bleeding came to a halt and Matsukawa withdrew from Hanamaki's personal bubble.

"I'm going to wash my hands and then I'll be back to help with the blood," Matsukawa said as he moved to stand. "If the villagers see that, they may start asking questions."

And with that, he was gone.

Hanamaki's head was spinning, though he doubted it was from blood loss. In spite of the heavy bleeding, it was only a small fraction of what his body normally had in it.

No, this was probably a result of Matsukawa. He had been so close while caring for Hanamaki's wing.

Thinking more of it made heat rise to his cheeks.

Hanamaki shook his head and willed the blush to go away; if Matsukawa saw it, maybe he would think that the blood loss was worse than it actually had been.

No, he wasn't that foolish.

He would know something was up, though.

Matsukawa came back with some supplies to clean the blood from Hanamaki's feathers. As he worked, Hanamaki tilted his head at him, which gave Matsukawa pause long enough to give him a quizzical look in response.

"What is it?" he asked as he turned his attention back to Hanamaki's wing.

"I was just wondering how you knew how to deal with that," Hanamaki said.

"Oh. I'm acquainted with a fae. He cares for some of the wildlife in his forest and has given me tips. He believes that it's also my responsibility to care for wildlife." Matsukawa chuckled. "I may not have known what a broken blood feather is, but I know what it looks like, and how to care for it. Turns out, the information came in handy."

"The fae use cornstarch to care for broken blood feathers in wild birds?"

This drew another soft laugh from Matsukawa. Then, as if it was obvious, he said, "Yeah. They also use baking soda." He glanced up at Hanamaki with a raised brow. "What? Do you think that the fae use ingredients too different from what humans use?"

"I'm gonna be honest: I don't know anything about the fae."

"Shame. I should take you to meet him. He's a delightful fellow." There was just a smidgen of sarcasm in Matsukawa's voice as he spoke, which meant that he was only partially joking.

"Maybe I'd like that. It gets a bit boring, being in this village all the time."

Matsukawa leaned back and stretched his arms over his head. "All done. I'll be right back; just going to let the villagers know not to bother you for the next couple of hours."

Then, Matsukawa was gone again, and Hanamaki was left to his own devices once more.

That night, he dreamt of Matsukawa.

Two weeks later, as Hanamaki sat on his nest of blankets and pillows, the new village leader — Koboyashi, who turned out to be Lady Hofu’s son — stepped into his shrine.

"Hanamaki," he started, drawing the deity's attention to him, "there is a man in the next village over who allows his children to run amok in our village."

"What do you want me to do about it?" Hanamaki asked with a raised brow.

"I would like you to use your trickster powers on him to get his children to stop."

Hanamaki hummed in mock thought — as if the thought of using his powers on  _ children _ didn’t absolutely disgust him — before clicking his tongue and shaking his head. "No can do. I'm your harvest god. My skills as a trickster god are not why I'm here."

Koboyashi fixed Hanamaki with a glare. "I tire of your reluctance to collaborate. Is it not the will of the people that drives a deity?"

This caused the teenage god to raise a brow in question. This was an argument that was brought up every time he turned down a request to use his trickster powers. “You’re confusing gods for kings, I’m afraid.”

Koboyashi’s face swelled and turned red with anger. As the color went down, he stepped towards Hanamaki and reached into his pouch, drawing a collar — golden, like the rest of his stupid adornments — and opening it up. It had a chain dangling from the front, and the back of it — where it opened up — had no loop for any sort of lock.

Hanamaki reared back at the sight.

“You will come with me of your own volition, or we will have to put this to use,” he said. “It locks with magic, which also allows it to track your movements; you will not be able to take this off by any normal means.”

“What?” Hanamaki sputtered.

"You will tell the entire village what you've just told me," Koboyashi elaborated.

"Why? Don’t they know that I’m here to bless your harvests?"

"That was what my mother wanted. The rest of us know that you are not a harvest god; you are a trickster god, and you are denying us the use of your true potential. Now, come with me, or we will be putting this to use."

He shook the collar, causing the chain to clatter. It sounded heavy; how was he able to lift it so easily?

Hesitantly, Hanamaki stood and walked with the man, where he was led to the center of the village. He moved to where the giant golden bell rested and rang it thrice, a call for everyone to gather. As the village residents joined them in the village's center, Hanamaki felt a twinge of fear.

He thought he saw a hunter among them.

When had the villagers called upon a hunter?

"Hanamaki has an announcement for us," Koboyashi said as everyone settled and quieted down. "It is in regards to the trouble our neighboring villages have caused."

Hanamaki felt his face heating up. In fact, he was starting to feel lightheaded.

Koboyashi turned to him and gestured for him to speak.

"I don't know who is on board with trying to have me punish those who bother you," Hanamaki started, feeling more dizzy at the feeling of everyone watching him intently, "but I'm here as your god of harvest. I don't use my tricks to rain down some petty vengeance against those whom you deem worthy of it."

He wasn't sure if he was imagining things, but the hush that swept over the crowd felt hostile. His ears were ringing, and he swore he could hear his heart hammering away at his ribcage.

Maybe Koboyashi was right — she was the only one who wanted him around as a harvest god.

"He denies us his use as a trickster god. He denies that he is even a trickster god." Koboyashi gestured to Hanamaki's face, and now he could feel everyone’s gazes on it, no doubt studying the marks that adorned it. Hanamaki’s chest clenched, and it felt like he was breathing past sludge. "You can plainly see that he is a trickster god. We have all known since the beginning.

"Isn't it the god who is at the mercy of the collective will of those he serves?" Now, he turned to Hanamaki.

It was the same argument he brought up while they talked in private. His gaze flitted to the crowd, spotting a hunter who hovered near the back of it; it looked like they were leaving space enough for him to see Hanamaki.

He could see what was going on here. They planned to do one of two things: bully him into doing their bidding, or kill him if he refused.

Hanamaki wanted neither of those.

"If you find no need for me, then I will no longer serve you," Hanamaki said.

People began exchanging looks.

“Everyone knows that a trickster god who falls into the hands of others becomes a threat to anyone who is not served by the trickster god,” Koboyashi shouted.

Hanamaki watched as the villagers exchanged looks and began to shout as well, watched as the hunter lifted his gun and pointed it at him. Everything felt like it was moving in slow motion; his head was spinning and his breaths came out in short rasps.

The hunter fired his gun and the bullet whizzed past Hanamaki's face, slicing his cheek and biting a chunk out of the shell of his ear. He gave a sharp cry of pain and pressed a hand to his ear, as if that would stop the searing pain.

The world fell out from underneath him, and he was sitting on the ground before he even realized he had fallen.

"If you know what's best for you," he could hear Koboyashi saying; his voice sounded so far away, "you will revert to your nature as a trickster god."

Despite vowing to not use his skills on humans, Hanamaki cast a spell that made everyone in the village see him sitting where he was, bowing his head and mumbling something akin to an apology. His head spun as he stood again, wings flapping and taking him into the air, and he nearly fell to the ground in his rush towards Matsukawa’s river. Matsukawa sat in wait, his expression scrunched up in concern.

"What happened?" he asked. "I heard gunfire."

"I'll explain later," Hanamaki said breathlessly, nearly toppling over as he reached for Matsukawa, who was quick to grab hold of him. "Go to the end of your river, the one that's near the fae's forest. I'll meet up with you down there."

Matsukawa nodded slowly, regarding the wounds on Hanamaki's face and momentarily. He slowly released Hanamaki’s arms, making sure the trickster god was able to stand on his own before turning and diving into the river.

As his form disappeared quickly down the length of it, Hanamaki took flight and followed the river, releasing his magic as he got far enough away.


	3. Meetings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Hanamaki and Matsukawa sever their ties to their village, Oikawa welcomes the trickster deity into their group. Afterwards, a certain hellhound makes his appearance, and a fun one it is.

In the city located near the forest of the fae, Kindaichi sat quietly in his room with a large book filled to the brim with fighting techniques and strategies laid out on the table he was seated in front of.

Occasionally, he would stand to practice with a wooden sword; practicing against air was all well and good when it came to memorizing the motions, but the real learning challenge came from practicing against a real opponent. Someone who could block, evade, and fight back put the practicality of an attack into perspective.

At some point, as Kindaichi was moving to sit back down to refresh his memory on how an attack was supposed to go, a familiar _whooshing_ sound made him pause in his movements. He looked behind himself to see that Kunimi had come to visit by _materializing_ into his room, as he so often did. It was something he was used to; they had been friends for two years by now, after all.

“Studying?” was all that he asked.

Kindaichi nodded and patted the ground next to him.

“Want to study with me?” he asked.

“No,” Kunimi responded simply, drawing his knees to his chest and hooking his hands around them at his ankles, “I don’t need to study hunter tactics.”

Kindaichi only hummed in response and turned back to his book. Though, it was a little hard to focus, knowing that his best friend was sitting right behind him.

After a moment, Kunimi spoke once more, “Kindaichi.”

In spite of how aware he was of his presence, it still gave Kindaichi a start to hear the other speak so suddenly.

“Hm?” Kindaichi turned to Kunimi.

The only time he had seen the other like this was when they first met; onyx horns jutting out of the sides of his head and curling forward, wrapping around his head akin to a crown, wings and a pair of tails of the same color curled around his body. He often preferred to take on a human form around Kindaichi, in the event that one of his parents walked in while they were chatting.

“I let my hellhound go,” he responded.

“What?” Kindaichi sputtered. “Kunimi, that’s like sentencing him to death.”

Kunimi only averted his gaze to the side at this. After a moment of uncomfortable silence, he finally stood from his perch on Kindaichi’s dresser, his wings unfurling and all signs of his demon lineage disappearing with a few pops and cracks. It sounded painful; no matter how often Kunimi told him that it didn’t hurt, Kindaichi couldn’t help grimacing.

“I released him on the surface; I’m hoping that it makes him harder to track,” Kunimi murmured as he moved to sit beside Kindaichi.

All Kindaichi could do was gape at Kunimi momentarily. “What about his eavesdropping missions?”

Kunimi shrugged. “We know all we need to, correct?”

This drew a stifled strangled noise from Kindaichi, which caused Kunimi to tilt his head to the side quizzically.

“Well, we know that the demon king is planning an attack in about six years,” Kunimi started. “This gives us six years to prepare, or less, if we manage to kill him before then. We know that, if we take him out, but fail to take the queen out with him, she will continue to carry out his plans, so we have to kill her when we kill the king.”

“How do you talk about that so casually?” Kindaichi interrupted.

“Talk about what so casually?” Kunimi asked incredulously.

“I don’t know, killing your parents?” Kindaichi had dropped his tone to a near-whisper.

This earned him a stern look from his best friend. “Two years ago, I might have just gone along with it, but I stumbled across you, and it made me rethink my decision to just let it happen.”

“That’s putting a lot at stake just because you met one human,” Kindaichi muttered.

Kunimi rolled his eyes at that and leaned back on his hands, casting his gaze to the ceiling. “You’re not _just_ one human. You’re my best friend. As you know, I had no friends back home. Everyone is too focused on dreading the war that the demon king is planning, or trying to suck up to him.

“Hm. Another thing my hellhound learned for me are the names of those who are in support of this big war. We will need to kill those individuals as well; they are not a mindless bunch who are only following orders. Even if we cut off the heads of the snake, the body will continue to move.”

“Was that his last assignment?” Kindaichi asked.

Kunimi gave an affirmative hum.

“Why did you release him? Won’t he be hunted?”

“I released him because I knew he’d be happier somewhere else. He’d enjoy having someone besides a half-baked prince as his master.”

Kindaichi turned to give Kunimi a look, which earned him a confused look from his friend.

“‘Half-baked prince’?” he repeated, eyebrows drawing together.

Kunimi nodded. “I’m the demon prince, and yet, up until recently, I was perfectly happy with letting everyone else make my decisions for me.”

Before Kindaichi could say anything, the door swung open and his father stood there with his hunting gun in hand, pointed directly at Kunimi.

“I was wondering who you were talking to,” he breathed, his eyes glinting with fear. “Get away from my son.”

Kindaichi looked at Kunimi, who was slowly standing up and stepping away from him, his hands raised in surrender. He looked surprised, and his eyes reflected Kindaichi’s fear back at him.

“Dad, it’s not what you think,” Kindaichi said quickly. “Please lower your gun.”

His father turned his head towards him, but his gaze remained on Kunimi. “Tell me how I’m wrong in thinking that my son is mingling with the prince of demons.”

“You’re right about that,” Kindaichi started, but his dad cut him off.

“Demons are dangerous, Yuutarou!” he barked. “The prince would have to be the worst. He could kill you at any moment!”

Kindaichi heard Kunimi take in a shaky breath. “With all due respect, Kindaichi-san, I’ve been visiting Kindaichi almost every day for two years now.”

Kindaichi’s father drew in a sharp breath, his grip on his gun tightening, dangerously close to just shooting Kunimi if he said the wrong thing.

“If my plan was to kill him,” Kunimi took another deep breath and dropped his gaze to the ground, “he would have been dead a long time ago. I don’t intend to do him any harm. He and I have been discussing the plans of the demon king and what we can do to make sure his war doesn’t come to pass.”

Again, a tilt of his head in Kindaichi’s direction told him that his father was now addressing him. “Is he telling the truth?”

Kindaichi nodded, which his father must have seen out of his peripheral vision, because he slowly lowered his gun and tucked it back into its holster. His jaw was still clenched, and his eyes still shone with a subtle fear, but the fact that he was willing to hear them out was more than enough for Kindaichi.

Kunimi, on the other hand, failed to relax. Kindaichi didn’t blame him; after all, skilled hunters — like his own father — were able to draw their guns and fire quicker than many were able to register what was happening.

“The demon king is planning a mass attack in five years time. The queen will undoubtedly carry out his plans, even if he is eliminated, so they must be taken out at the same time.

“The demons who support the attack certainly won’t scatter, but they will become a little more disorganized without direct orders from the king and queen. Regardless of that, the supporters will still have to be wiped out to stop the attack completely.

“If we’re able to organize faster than the king can, we might be able to take the fight to him and wipe out all who are in favor of the war before it can happen.”

That was the most Kindaichi had heard Kunimi speak in one go, but he supposed his friend’s wordiness made sense; he was still afraid, and any hint at him bearing any ill will — which Kindaichi knew he didn’t — would bring his demise faster than he could take a step.

Kindaichi’s dad nodded slowly as he processed all the information Kunimi had presented him with. After a moment, he moved to sit across from Kindaichi. When Kunimi didn’t move from where he stood in the corner, Kindaichi’s dad gestured for him to join them.

“Here are some ways that I can think of us to build forces for a plan of attack,” Kindaichi’s dad started as Kunimi moved to sit with them.

Oikawa and Yahaba sat outside Iwaizumi's den, waiting for the return of the siblings. The eldest of the four had insisted that they were old enough to learn how to hunt and had taken them out to do so.

It had been a couple of hours since the four of them had left, and Oikawa was getting bored. There was no doubt in his mind that Yahaba was starting to feel the same, despite the younger boy's attempts to hide it.

Oikawa had just begun to hum quietly to himself when he felt movement in the water near the den. He had a feeling that he knew who it was, but one could never be sure in this world. So, he began to sit up, one hand lifted and a spell readied.

Matsukawa popped his head out of the water, and unaware of Oikawa and Yahaba's presence, began looking skyward.

Oikawa followed his gaze, his eyes widening when he saw a feathered figure dropping to land. He was getting ready to launch an attack at the man — wait, boy? — when Matsukawa called out to him.

"Hiro!" he called as he hauled himself out of the water.

The boy landed and rushed towards Matsukawa. The look in his eyes was frantic.

"They tried to kill me!" he cried as his hands latched onto Matsukawa's arms.

"What?" the water god asked roughly. "Why?"

"Lady Hofu was keeping me around as their harvest god, but they started asking me to play dangerous tricks on anyone who bothered them last year after she died last year. They said that I was denying them my use as a trickster god." The pink-haired male looked like he was on the verge of tears, panic and pain dancing in his wide grey eyes.

Matsukawa lifted his hand to run his fingers along the cut on the other boy's cheek, causing him to wince and pull back.

"... I'm sorry to tell you, but I think that everyone wanted you around solely for that reason from the beginning. The only reason they weren't asking was because of Lady Hofu." He spoke slowly, as if trying to choose his words carefully as to not hurt the other boy.

"Ya-hoo, Mattsun," Oikawa crooned, having lowered his guard and deciding to cut in before the conversation got ugly. "Nice to see you again. Is this your boyfriend?"

The boy in question leapt away from Matsukawa, his grey eyes frantic. Matsukawa turned to Oikawa with an unreadable expression.

That was _such_ a Matsukawa thing for him to do.

"Nope," he said, making sure to make a popping sound with the 'p'. "Hiro, this is Oikawa. Oikawa, this is Hanamaki."

"Oh." Oikawa drew the sound out, like he was cooing affectionately. "So you're the beloved trickster god I've heard so much about. It's a pleasure."

Oikawa stood fully and gestured towards Yahaba. "This is my apprentice, Yahaba. Also, did I tell you, Mattsun, that I've been given a position of general?"

Matsukawa's eyes widened, if only marginally. "You didn't. I guess you're really skilled, for them to make you a general at, what, sixteen years old?"

Oikawa laughed. "You _guess_ ? No, you _know_ that I'm incredibly skilled. Besides, I was made a general at _fourteen_ years old, not sixteen."

At this, Matsukawa only shrugged with a soft, drawn-out _ooh_.

It was at this time that Oikawa heard the distinct sound of the dragon siblings returning home. He could see Hanamaki start at the sounds of their heavy footsteps.

"Oh, don't worry Makki," Oikawa assured. "Those are some friends of ours."

He turned to the direction the sound came from, skillfully ignoring the strange look the strawberry blond threw at him in response to the nickname, and watched as only the three youngest tumbled towards their den.

"Where's Iwa-chan?" he called.

The middle sibling, named Chihiro, paused to shift into her human form. She pointed towards the forest. "We saw him fighting some people. He told us to leave because it's too dangerous."

Oikawa, without giving pause for thought, rushed in the direction in which Chihiro had pointed.

He could hear Yahaba calling after him and tossed a, "Wait over there, don’t follow me," over his shoulder.

As he got close enough to hear Iwaizumi's low growls rumbling through the forest, Oikawa only ran faster. He burst into a clearing and spotted Iwaizumi crouching low and ready to strike. Unless he was mistaken, that was the posture Iwaizumi assumed when he was protecting something. He would have trouble looking after whatever he was protecting _and_ fighting off his assailants at the same time, so Oikawa moved to stand next to Iwaizumi.

"Shit," he muttered as he saw what Iwaizumi had been fighting.

Five demons. Two looked like generals; both had two large hellhounds at their sides. Oikawa lifted his hand and murmured a banishing spell, sending the demons back to their home, where they would wander aimlessly in search for an exit for four years. If they were lucky, they would kill each other during that time; it would be preferable to starving to death.

Iwaizumi turned towards Oikawa and moved to the side to reveal what he had been protecting: a hellhound with blond fur. From where it was slumped on the ground, Oikawa could see two black stripes running from underneath its eyes, down its shoulders.

Well. Consider Oikawa surprised.

"Uh," Oikawa started eloquently, "should you be bringing that thing back to your den?"

Iwaizumi only huffed in response before lowering his head to grab the thing by the scruff. It growled softly in response, but the way it had its tail tucked told Oikawa that it was terrified.

Giving an exaggerated sigh, Oikawa reluctantly followed Iwaizumi back to his den.

When they got there, Iwaizumi gently placed the hellhound on the ground and shifted into a human. For a moment, he stood completely still, eyes glued to Matsukawa and Hanamaki. It was only when he turned to look at Oikawa that he spoke.

“Oikawa,” he started in a low voice, “who are they?”

Oikawa could tell that Iwaizumi was bristling at them. Why had he never introduced Matsukawa to Iwaizumi?

Oh well. Better late than never, he supposed.

“Iwa-chan, this is Mattsun,” Oikawa gestured to the male in question. “He’s a water deity.”

Matsukawa turned to Iwaizumi and bowed his head in greeting. “It’s actually Matsukawa, but feel free to call me whatever.”

“And this is Makki,” Oikawa gestured to the other male with a smile. “He’s a trickster deity.”

“Uh,” Hanamaki started tentatively, bowing his head in greeting as well.

Before Hanamaki was able to say anything, Matsukawa said, “He’s Hanamaki. I’ve known Oikawa for a while, but he and Hanamaki have only just met.”

Looking at Hanamaki, Oikawa could see that he was nervous. His head was lowered, his gaze stuck darting between Iwaizumi and the hellhound while his hands clenched into fists and relaxed repeatedly at his sides, and his feathers quivered ever so slightly. Oikawa moved to stand in front of the trickster deity and gave a thoughtful hum.

“Makki, could it be that humans respond poorly to what you are?” he asked as one of his hands moved up to touch the skin beneath the cut on his cheek. “They either try to use you, or they try to kill you, yes?”

Hanamaki nodded, his gaze flitting up to Oikawa’s own.

“Well, we are not human,” Oikawa stated simply. “Humans are easily frightened by that which lies outside of their own power. If they cannot control you, they believe you to be better off dead. Why is that? Maybe it’s because they fear that you will fall under someone else’s control and will eventually be used against them.”

“Kusoikawa,” Iwaizumi barked before Oikawa could relish in how Hanamaki took this information.

“Yes, Iwa-chan?” Oikawa cooed and turned to Iwaizumi with a smile.

“This hellhound needs medical attention. From what I can tell, Hanamaki does too.” Iwaizumi fixed Oikawa with a stern look, his arms crossed over his chest. “I could do it myself by foraging for supplies, but I trust your magic more.”

“Aw, Iwa-chan! You don’t have any magic of your own to use?” Oikawa laughed. “I can see that you have a magic reservoir; do you not know how to use it?”

“Does everyone have magic at their disposal?” Yahaba asked.

“Not everyone, no.” Oikawa shook his head. “Most ‘supernatural’ creatures do. Some humans do as well, though they have significantly less at their disposal than many of us do. I wouldn’t doubt that the hellhound has a small amount at his disposal as well.”

Oikawa turned his attention back to Iwaizumi and he gave him a challenging grin. “Watch this.”

He turned to Hanamaki and hovered his hand by his face so that his palm sat by the trickster god’s cheek and his fingertips by his ear.

“Just so you know, this won’t undo the damage that was done to you. You will likely still have a scar on your cheek, and that chunk of your ear will stay.”

Hanamaki nodded quickly; his eyes still held that primal fear from when Oikawa had spoken to him about the nature of humans. It almost made Oikawa sigh in sorrow; how unfortunate it was that so many supernatural creatures had to lose their lives as a result of the lies of humans.

Oikawa took in a deep breath and drew forth some of his magic as he spoke a spell loud enough for Iwaizumi to hear. A soft, honey-colored glow emitted from the palm of his hand and seeped into damage done to Hanamaki’s face and ear. Since the wounds were relatively small, the process took no longer than ten seconds to complete.

Once he was done, Oikawa turned to Iwaizumi and grinned. “Did you get that?” he asked as he placed his hands on his hips.

Iwaizumi, looking unimpressed, said, “Fae magic is different from dragon magic, you know.”

While Matsukawa snorted in amusement behind him, Oikawa gave a sound like he’d just been punched in the side. “You could at least act impressed! I’ve never shown you my magic before! Do you even know how to use dragon magic?”

Iwaizumi raised a brow and crouched down next to the hellhound. “I know a bit, but dragon magic doesn’t offer much in the way of healing; it does more for me in battle than anything else. You’ll have to come over here and heal it yourself.”

“Hmph.” Despite his pout, Oikawa moved closer to the hellhound and crouched next to it as well. “As with Makki, you’ll be stuck with scars.”

He examined the cuts that marred the creature’s side closest to him, and the ones that ran across his back. It looked like one of its legs had been hurt in the attack as well.

When Oikawa reached out to place his hands above the hellhound’s body, it growled and abruptly turned its head to snap its teeth at his hands. Oikawa yanked his hands away from its reach with a yelp.

“Iwa-chan!” Oikawa whined. “It tried to bite me!”

“I know; I’m not blind, you know,” Iwaizumi shot back. “Now shut up.” He ignored the whine of protest that Oikawa gave. “Your yelling will scare it.”

Now, the dragon turned his attention back to the hellhound, who had pressed itself closer to him, its chest heaving with the effort of breathing through excruciating pain. “Hey, he’s not here to hurt you. I know, you can probably tell that he’s got a shitty personality, but he will make sure that your wounds are healed.”

Iwaizumi nodded to Oikawa after a moment, pointedly ignoring the dirty look he was receiving.

Once more, Oikawa moved to place his hands above its body and he muttered the healing spell once more. The light traveled from his hand, around the hellhound’s body and pressed into its wounds, stopping the bleeding and pulling them shut. This one took significantly longer — five minutes, to be exact — and a bit more energy, but once it was done, Oikawa withdrew his hands and gave a sigh.

“I got everything,” he said as he flicked his hair out of his face with a tut.

The hellhound stood and shook itself off, its breathing evening out as it did so. It seemed worn out from all the action — understandably so. Aside from that, the hound stood almost as tall as Iwaizumi. Its shoulders were wide and its body full of powerful muscles. For this thing to have been that hurt in a confrontation, Oikawa figured that the demons would have had to have snuck up on it, and then overpowered it with their numbers.

Matsukawa stepped into the den. “Do you want to clean up?” he asked. “You can use the water just outside this den. If it’ll make you feel better, Iwaizumi can go with you.”

The hellhound looked at Iwaizumi, who frowned about being volunteered for the task, but stood up anyway.

“I’ll keep watch while you bathe,” he said as he moved to the mouth of the den. “You all stay here and keep an eye out for my family.”

While Hanamaki and Matsukawa moved to sit inside the den, Oikawa moved to sit at the mouth of the den. He made sure he sat so that he was facing the outside; he was curious about this hellhound. Yahaba joined him and turned towards him.

“Why didn’t you let me heal Hanamaki-san?” he asked.

“Hm?” Oikawa turned to Yahaba with a raised brow.

“I just mean, your skills are already incredibly refined. I need more practice, so I’d like to do what I can to improve. Besides,” he paused to pull his knees to his chest, “that’s a spell I’m not as familiar with.”

“I didn’t think about that,” Oikawa said quietly. “Your skills are quite bright, so it’s easy for me to forget sometimes that you still need more practice with certain spells.”

At this, Yahaba’s eyes lit up. “You really think so?”

“Of course I do.” Oikawa grinned. “You outshine a lot of my pupils already. If you think there are certain spells that you need more practice with, just say something and I’ll step aside.”

Yahaba nodded eagerly. “Of course!”

Yahaba turned to look at Iwaizumi and the hellhound as it bathed, only to be greeted by the sight of a male standing in the water, rather than a hound. From where he sat, Yahaba could see that the man had intense, amber eyes lined with what seemed like kohl. His blond hair was cropped close to his head, with two black stripes running across, one just above his ears and the other about midway down from them. His muscles were full, golden skin marred with scars on the torso and one of his legs.

Yahaba gritted his teeth and turned his gaze pointedly away from the stark naked body of that hellhound.

He didn’t know that hellhounds had human forms! He supposed that it should have been obvious, though, since dragons did, but it wasn’t something that had crossed his mind.

He felt his face heat up with the realization that he had totally been checking the hellhound out.

“Oikawa-san?” he called, his head still turned so that he couldn’t even see the hellhound out of the corner of his eye.

“Yes?” Oikawa responded, his voice trembling with suppressed laughter.

“Are all hellhounds bad?”

“That’s like asking if all tricksters are bad.” Now he laughed, though it was a light, lilted sound. “I suppose not all hellhounds are bad. It’s a possibility that even demons can be all right. For hellhounds, though, it depends on who they’re bonded with; a strong bond can occur through something similar to what happened with Iwa-chan and that hellhound over there. You do recall that Iwa-chan saved him, right?”

Yahaba gave a quick nod.

“Sometimes, a demon may opt to release their hellhound. Other times, the hellhound may simply run away. It’s hard to tell what occurred this time, but in any case, the hellhound is hunted by demons who fear the idea of it bonding to someone who stands as an enemy to them. Hellhounds are incredibly strong allies, when they’re with someone they _want_ to serve.”

Then, Oikawa nudged Yahaba with his elbow, drawing the younger fae’s attention to him. Yahaba gave him a quizzical look, still pointedly _not looking_ at the hellhound.

“Who knows, maybe you could gain his favor,” Oikawa laughed.

 _Now_ he was teasing.

Oikawa was too smart to miss Yahaba’s attempts to not look. Still, the comment caught him off-guard and caused his cheeks to heat up again.

For a moment, Yahaba simply spluttered, spitting out things that sounded like words, but didn’t quite make the cut.

When he finally regained his composure, he said, “I’m simply being respectful by not looking! It’s rude, and not to mention perverted, to watch someone as they bathe!”

Oikawa only laughed and turned to look towards the two outside. Yahaba followed his gaze without thinking; the hellhound watched Yahaba with a sharp gaze, and in his embarrassment, it made him feel like he wanted to disappear. The hellhound definitely knew that he had been observing him while he was bathing.

Or at least, Yahaba _thought_ he did. He wasn’t entirely sure.

Yahaba skittered back into the den, far enough back that he could no longer see outside of it. He watched how Hanamaki and Matsukawa interacted until the two came back.

“His cloak was torn to shreds, so I went into a nearby town to get him a hakama,” Iwaizumi said.

Oikawa made a noise like a boiling tea kettle.

“You went into town?” he nearly screeched. “What would they think about a dragon going to their shopping district?”

“Shut up, Kusoikawa,” Iwaizumi snapped. “I have a spell that can conceal my dragon features. It takes a lot of energy and concentration, though, so I can’t do it for very long without feeling exhausted.”

Truthfully, Iwaizumi had dark circles under his eyes. He moved to the back of the den and collapsed into his nest. Yahaba looked at the hellhound and willed his cheeks not to discolor.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

The hellhound looked at him out of the corner of his eye and gave a soft growl, his lips parting slightly to show the sharp teeth that could only belong to a carnivore.

 _Wow_. What a friendly fellow. Yahaba had trouble keeping his eyes from rolling.

“I’m Yahaba Shigeru,” he pressed, now wondering if the hellhound understood him.

“Kyoutani,” the hellhound muttered, his voice almost imperceptible. “Kentarou.”

“‘Kyoutani Kentarou’?” Yahaba repeated, garnering a nod from the hellhound.

Oikawa suddenly clapped his hands together, causing several people in the den to jump. It also earned him a, “Shut up!” from Iwaizumi. He skillfully ignored all of that.

“How about you act as Yahaba’s training partner?” he chirped.

Kyoutani gave him a strange look. Even Yahaba found himself wondering what it was that Oikawa was suggesting.

“Come on,” the fae general crooned, “Yahaba needs extra battle experience, and it isn’t always useful for us fae to train against training dummies. They can’t dodge or fight back. It’s much more useful to put one’s battle training to use in a real battle.”

“‘A real battle’?” Yahaba echoed.

Kyoutani’s eyes narrowed.

“I would kill him,” he growled.

This earned him a glare from Yahaba.

Oikawa scoffed at that. “No, you wouldn’t. Because you’re going to hold back just a smidgen so that Yahaba is able to learn from his mistakes. Of course, you won’t be allowed into our home, so you will have to make do with something nearby. Maybe a clearing in the forest that isn’t under the jurisdiction of the fae?”

“Those exist?” Yahaba asked before he could think to stop himself.

Oikawa laughed. “Of course they do. The fae don’t own the entire forest; there are other clans of creatures who live there as well, you know.”

“Fighting would draw their attention to us, then.” Kyoutani crossed his arms over his impossibly broad chest.

Yahaba had to drag his eyes away from the hellhound to keep himself from staring. Being interested in a hellhound as a member of the fae was just _wrong_ , no matter how innocent Oikawa made it sound.

“Not if I use a spell,” Oikawa practically sang with a wave of his finger. “I was made a general for a reason; I can use a spell to separate whatever space you two pick from the rest of the forest. Nothing would come looking for you, then.”

Iwaizumi spoke tiredly from the back of the den, “Practicing against a fae won’t do anything bad for you. Yahaba is strong, so he might prove to be good practice for you. Besides, you could probably use a good training session, after what I saw earlier.”

Kyoutani watched Iwaizumi, and once the dragon finished speaking, the hellhound nodded. He was so tame with Iwaizumi. Maybe he’d bonded with him, like Oikawa had suggested earlier.

“I’ll do it,” Kyoutani said.

Oikawa gave Yahaba a smirk; he didn’t know what to make of that look, but it struck him as devious.

“I’ll do it, too,” he said with a nod. “I could use the extra practice. Besides, if either of us get hurt during our sessions, I can use that as an opportunity to practice my healing spells.”

“Absolutely!” Oikawa chirped. He stood and brushed his legs off. “Why don’t we find a suitable area? You can begin tomorrow.”

The two followed after Oikawa. It didn’t take long for them to find a clearing that was large enough for them to use. It was certainly close to Iwaizumi’s den, which made it all the more convenient.

“This looks like the place,” Oikawa said as he finished checking to see if anything else had already claimed the land. “I won’t be using my magic to separate this area from its surroundings just yet. I’ll only be doing that during training sessions; it would take too much energy to keep something like that up at all times.”

With that, Oikawa walked them back to Iwaizumi’s den. “Yahaba and I will be going back home; you can stay with Iwa-chan, okay?”

Kyoutani narrowed his eyes at Oikawa, but nodded and ducked into the den. Oikawa peeked in and looked at Iwaizumi, who seemed to only be dozing right now.

“Iwa-chan,” he called, startling the dragon out of his light slumber. “Where should those two go?”

He gestured to Matsukawa and Hanamaki as he spoke, pulling Iwaizumi’s tired gaze to them.

“They can stay here or go with you,” Iwaizumi mumbled sleepily. “Whichever is more convenient.”

“I think that only Mattsun would be allowed in our home.” Oikawa tapped his chin thoughtfully.

“Then I’ll stay here with Hiro,” Matsukawa said simply.

Oikawa nodded and waved, immediately turning on his heel to walk back into the forest. “I’ll see you all tomorrow!”

Yahaba bowed his head and gave a soft thanks, offering a small wave as he walked after Oikawa.

The next day, Oikawa dragged Yahaba back to Iwaizumi’s den.

He seemed more excited about having these two train together than Yahaba was. Actually, the younger fae wasn’t even excited for it; he was more nervous than anything. Kyoutani was a _hellhound_. Sure, he was hot in his human form, — did he just say that? No, he didn’t — but creatures from the demon realm were still known to be vicious, relentless creatures who killed and consumed anything and everything. In fact, there was talk among the fae of the possibility of the demons launching a wide scale attack on the surface.

Who was to say that Kyoutani wasn’t a part of that plan?

Still, training against him could be good for Yahaba, so he took a deep breath to calm his nerves and silenced the thoughts running rampant in his head.

If Kyoutani was a real threat, Yahaba could take him, right? He was _just_ a member of the slave species in the demon realm, right?

“Kyouken-chan,” Oikawa called in a singsong tone. “It’s time for your training match against Yahaba!”

The hellhound stirred, giving a low growl at the nickname. Even in his human form, the growl sounded akin to a savage beast, enough so that the hairs on the back of Yahaba’s neck stood on end.

“Don’t call me that,” he grumbled as he moved to the mouth of the den.

“Don’t try it,” Matsukawa said sleepily with a chuckle. “Oikawa gives almost everyone stupid nicknames.”

Kyoutani gave a frustrated sigh and shook his head in exasperation.

“Let’s go,” Oikawa chirped. “I’ll be monitoring the situation outside of that area; I won’t be able to see or hear inside, so you two will have plenty of privacy.”

“Why do we need privacy to train?” Yahaba asked.

He couldn’t help the suspicious narrowing of his eyes at that.

“Well, if I can see what’s going on, you might feel pressured to behave in ways you normally wouldn’t,” Oikawa said simply with a wave of his hand.

What was he talking about? Did he think that Yahaba would fight differently if he knew Oikawa could see him? On the one hand, he was probably right, but on the other hand, it seemed like an incredibly stupid move, considering what Yahaba would be training with.

He cast a sidelong glance at Kyoutani, observing the sour look on the hellhound’s face for only a moment. Yahaba found himself wondering why Kyoutani was always glaring like that, and unfortunately, it only helped to feed the fears boiling in the back of his mind.

Once they got to their designated clearing, Oikawa muttered the words to the concealing spell that would hide the presence of the clearing from prying eyes. He then clapped his hands together and grinned, gaze flitting between the two.

“Well, the only rule here is this: don’t kill each other,” Oikawa said in a serious tone, oddly stark against the grin he wore.

“I know,” Kyoutani snapped, clearly irritated that Oikawa felt the need to remind him again.

Oikawa nodded. “Good.”

He turned to exit the clearing, and as he left, he said, “Let me know if anything comes up!”

As Oikawa left, Yahaba turned to look at Kyoutani, who in turn looked at him. Just as the fae opened his mouth to speak, the hellhound ducked his head and lunged towards him. With such little time to react, Yahaba was hit with the full force of Kyoutani’s weight; he slammed to the ground, gasping for breath as Kyoutani moved to pin him — painfully — in place.

“If this were a real fight, you would be dead,” Kyoutani snarled as he moved to stand up.

“That wasn’t fair,” Yahaba shot back as he finally caught his breath. “You didn’t give any warning!”

As Yahaba stood, Kyoutani gave him a funny look — well, he was still scowling, but something about it was different from his usual frown.

“You don’t get warnings in real fights,” he said matter-of-factly. “You must always be wary of your opponent; the stance and movements of your opponent should always be something you look out for.”

For Kyoutani, this must have seemed like common sense. Yahaba didn’t know how things were in the demon realm, but he had heard from other fae who had been there on rescue missions that it was a barren, war-ridden land. It sounded like they were always fighting in the demon realm.

For Yahaba, though, fights were outside of his expertise. As Oikawa had said, he had only ever practiced on training dummies; they didn’t move, nor did they fight back. This was new territory for him.

“Hey, cut me some slack here,” Yahaba finally stood up and crossed his arms over his chest, “unlike some of you, I’ve never been in an actual fight.”

This earned him another funny look from the hellhound.

“Fights, battles, and wars can happen at any time. They don’t cut you any slack.” Kyoutani cast his gaze to the ground. When he looked back at Yahaba, his expression had gone back to normal. “I will only give a warning at the beginning of training sessions, until you can get used to the idea of doing them without one. Fall into the rhythm of battle and do not falter. I will tell you when you ‘die’.”

Kyoutani was a weird one.

Yahaba nodded. “Okay, I can do that.”

This earned him a nod from the other, and now Yahaba could see that the scowl was slightly different again. He didn’t know what any of these subtle changes in Kyoutani’s expressions meant; they all just looked like scowls.

Kyoutani gave a shout in a foreign tongue, snapping Yahaba out of his thoughts just in time to see the hellhound crouching low to the ground and rushing towards him again.

Yahaba breathed a mobile defense spell, which Kyoutani slammed into and was subsequently pushed back by.

Many of Kyoutani’s attacks involved grapples and tackles, many of which Yahaba was able to deflect or jump away from. Whenever Kyoutani drew too close, Yahaba would summon a weapon — typically a bow, as that was his chosen weapon during battle — and catch Kyoutani on it. It often got him overpowered due to the hellhound’s immense strength, and Kyoutani would mumble to him about how he had just died.

As the sparring went on, Yahaba found himself getting more and more frustrated. Whenever he saw Oikawa fight, he always found himself in awe at his senior’s skills and movements; it was almost as though Oikawa was dancing, rather than fighting.

Eventually, Kyoutani paused in his movements and stepped back. The hellhound had no wounds on him; in fact, he hadn’t seemed to be struggling much at all. Yahaba, however, felt like he had been run over by a carriage or something.

“You’re weak,” Kyoutani said pointedly. In fact, the way he had said it was like he was stating an obvious fact; it rubbed Yahaba the wrong way.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Yahaba spat in between puffed breaths.

“You’re _weak_ ,” Kyoutani snarled and crossed his arms.

Yahaba wanted to believe that he wasn’t just trying to piss him off, but that damned scowl remained on his face, and the way he repeated it sounded so aggressive and condescending.

“Do you want to elaborate?” Yahaba asked, pressing down on his anger in an attempt to stay calm.

“Oikawa’s magic is like breathing for him,” Kyoutani said, calmer now, and allowed his arms to drop to his sides. “It’s always there; he consciously keeps it active at all times so that it’s more easily accessible. That’s what powerful demons do, too.”

Yahaba bristled at the mention of demons, which caused Kyoutani to cross his arms and scowl deeper.

“When you stop using your magic, it’s like you flip a switch.” Kyoutani reached one hand out and snapped his fingers. “Your magic turns off, just like that. It no longer surrounds you, it is no longer active. You should try to keep it passively active; it will strengthen your stamina and your magic; you will find that fighting is a lot easier that way.”

Yahaba nodded, relaxing a little bit. “I’ve always wondered how Oikawa is so strong. He was even given a position as a general at the age of fourteen. That’s the youngest age anyone has ever seen a fae be given that position.”

Kyoutani’s scowl deepened once more. “You are _you_. Your magic is different from Oikawa’s. Don’t compare yourself to him.”

“I wasn’t!” Yahaba threw his hands into the air in exasperation. “I was just saying that it’s something I wonder about!”

“You look jealous when you talk about his powers and skills.” Kyoutani turned away from Yahaba. “We need to work on your close combat as well; you need to learn how to fight without the use of your magic.”

Yahaba scoffed and shook his head.

“Let’s call it a night.” Kyoutani looked at Yahaba, and once more, his scowl was different.

Yahaba was beginning to feel frustrated about the subtle and imperceptible changes in Kyoutani’s expressions that he couldn’t read.

The hellhound turned his gaze away from Yahaba once more. “Remember to try to keep your magic passively active, even as you sleep.”

“Even while I _sleep_?” Yahaba sputtered. “How am I supposed to do that while I’m unconscious?”

“I’ve seen many who are able to do it. Even Iwaizumi-san can do it with his dragon magic.”

“How do you know all this?” Yahaba moved to follow Kyoutani as the hellhound stepped towards the boundary of their training area.

“I can sense magic.” Kyoutani gave him another strange look; it looked similar to the ones he had given to Yahaba when he had complained about the abrupt nature of how their training session had started. Was it bewilderment? Confusion? “Can you not?”

“No, I can’t.” Yahaba’s brows drew together at the admission.

“Then you need to start being able to sense it,” Kyoutani said as they exited the barrier. “Not being able to sense it could get you killed; it’s important to be able to sense magic power so that you are able to gauge your opponent’s skill level.”

“How do I do that?” Yahaba raised a brow at Kyoutani.

“You just feel around for it.” Kyoutani gave a soft huff, as though this should be obvious. “It should be easy for you, since you have magic.”

“Do you have magic?” Yahaba watched Kyoutani as he waited for an answer.

“You’ll know once you can sense magic.” There was a subtle pull at the corners of his lips, one that Yahaba would have missed, had he not been watching Kyoutani as he spoke.

They met up with Oikawa, who watched them with a raised brow and one hip cocked to the side, a hand resting on it.

“You two sure are talkative after your training session,” he said. “Though you look positively exhausted, Yahaba!”

Yahaba offered the older fae a weak smile. “Yeah, Kyoutani sure doesn’t go easy.”

And here, he had been thinking that it would be easier to spar with the hellhound when he was in his human form. How wrong he was.

“Well, let’s get you home so you can rest up! I’ll walk you through the spell you use to heal yourself, which is actually different from the one you use to heal others.”

Oikawa ushered them back to Iwaizumi’s den, where Kyoutani stayed as the fae went back to their home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took a little bit of time to get ready for posting ^^" Thank you for your patience! In between posts for this fic, I'll be working on shorter one-shots that you can check out in the meantime, if you'd like!


	4. Unfitting Vengeance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Hanamaki and Matsukawa have joined up with Oikawa, Yahaba, Iwaizumi, and Kyoutani, two others join them with the idea of vengeance in mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Sorry it's been a while since my last update. I'm not sure how closely you've been following the news on the coronavirus, but it hit my area pretty hard last month. My campus closed, so with shifting classes over to online-exclusive functions, and the stress of the climbing incidents, it's been a little hectic for me ^^" On that same vein, sorry if this chapter is a little wonky! I hope you understand!

Kindaichi sat on the floor in front of his kotatsu, his hands balled into fists on the table. He heard the sound of Kunimi appearing inside his room, and not a second later, the demon prince approached him and knelt next to him.

“What’s wrong?” he asked as he carefully regarded Kindaichi's tear-streaked face.

This drew another sob from the boy.

It wasn’t _fair_. 

“Hey,” Kunimi murmured, shifting closer to gently place a hand on Kindaichi’s back, “breathe. You can talk when you’re ready.”

Kindaichi nodded and attempted to take deep breaths. He would be of no use if he forgot how to breathe.

After a few minutes of steadying his breath, Kindaichi turned to look at Kunimi. Seeing the subtle concern on his friend’s face almost made him break down again.

“My—” he choked back another sob. “My dad died a week and a half ago.”

Kunimi’s eyes widened, even if it was just marginally. “What?”

“A dragon killed him. He was sent to hunt a dragon on the other side of the fae’s forest.” Kindaichi could feel his fingernails biting into his palms from how tight he was balling his hands into fists, but it was nothing compared to the excruciating pain he felt in his chest.

It was so hard to breathe.

After a moment, Kunimi said, “What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to take the job and wait until night. Dragons sleep, too; that will be the best time to finish the job.”

Kunimi looked surprised. “You’re only fourteen, Kindaichi.”

“I’m already a certified hunter,” Kindaichi cried, causing Kunimi to shuffle back a little bit. “I’ve trained  _ so hard _ so that I could help him, and now he’s gone! I took the test last week. If only I’d taken the test sooner; I would have been able to help him.”

Kunimi stood and walked somewhere behind Kindaichi. When he reappeared, he held a box of tissues in his hands. He sat down next to Kindaichi and offered the tissues to him.

“Well,” he started as Kindaichi grabbed a wad of tissues and wiped at his face with them, “I’ll back you up, then.”

Kindaichi set the soiled tissues aside and grabbed another to blow his nose into it. Once he was finished, he gave Kunimi a helpless look.

“Vengeance doesn’t suit you, you know,” Kunimi mumbled.

“This isn’t vengeance,” Kindaichi spat.

“Do you know why your father was sent to hunt that dragon down?” Kunimi asked. When Kindaichi didn’t respond, he added, “Was it raiding villages and killing people?”

Kindaichi blinked. “I don’t know. I’ll have to ask when I pick up the mission.”

Kunimi nodded. “Get ready, then. Let’s get that mission and you can ask your question.”

Kindaichi stood and began changing and gearing up. Behind him, he heard the sound of Kunimi taking on his human form.

This time, the sounds didn’t turn his stomach.

Once he was ready, he went to the city square and approached the booth of the man who handed out the jobs.

“Excuse me,” he said.

The man regarded him with an odd look on his face before lifting an eyebrow in question.

Kindaichi might have had the face of a child, but he was rather tall and well-built for his age. He attributed that to his years of training with Kunimi; even the demon prince was rather tall for his age, though he still stood a couple inches shorter than Kindaichi.

“I’d like to take the job of hunting that dragon that lives on the other side of the fae’s forest,” he said.

“That’s a tough job, kid,” the man said without missing a beat. “Many who have taken this job haven’t come back.”

“I know.” Kindaichi fixed him with the best determined look he could.

It seemed to sway the man.

“Come back with proof that you killed it and you will receive the full payment of three million gold.”

Kindaichi nodded, but before he could turn away, Kunimi asked, “Has this dragon been terrorizing people? Does it raid villages and cities?”

When Kindaichi thought about it, Kunimi did have a good point: if this dragon had been terrorizing people, then their city would have already been hit.

Why would his father take such a job, if the dragon was causing no one any trouble?

The man fixed Kunimi with a glare. “That doesn’t matter. Dragons, just as demons, are dangerous. If they are nearby, we must kill them before they are able to begin terrorizing people.”

“I see,” Kunimi said.

Kindaichi didn’t understand the logic in that. Not all demons were bad. It  _ must _ have been the same with dragons.

It was just so hard to give this dragon any benefit of a doubt when it had killed his father.

Kindaichi walked away from the man, and Kunimi followed.

“The travel around the fae’s forest will probably take a day or two,” Kindaichi said. “Once we get there, we will wait until nightfall to strike.”

“Are you really going to kill it?” Kunimi wondered aloud.

That, Kindaichi couldn’t answer. Kunimi might have been right about his reasons for wanting to kill the dragon, but it seemed that the demon prince knew him well enough to pull him back even from that dark place.

Two days later, as the sun was descending from its plight, the pair found themselves outside of the dragon’s den. When they heard the sound of voices from inside, Kindaichi hid and pulled Kunimi with him. From what it sounded like, the owners of the voices were taking their leave.

To Kindaichi’s surprise, a pair of fae walked out of the den. The taller one’s gaze flitted towards where they were hiding, but he kept walking. Still, the glance was enough to set Kindaichi dizzy with fear.

A few hours later, when the moon hung high in the sky and the only sounds that he could hear from the den were those of sleeping creatures, Kindaichi crept out from his hiding spot. Kunimi walked next to him as they approached the den’s mouth.

Inside, they could see seven figures; strangely enough, they all looked relatively human. Five of them appeared to have wings, though one had feathers.

It was too dark to make out the exact shapes of all the figures, but one step inside the den caused one of the figures closest to the mouth of the cave to perk up. After a moment, it let out a low growl, which seemed to alert a few of the others. Three of them were instantly on their feet, and Kunimi’s hand was on Kindaichi’s arm, gently tugging him backwards.

“Kindaichi,” he said softly. “That’s Kyoutani. He was my hellhound.”

This drew his attention towards Kunimi. “What? What does that mean?”

“That means that he chose a new master.” Kunimi shifted them so that Kindaichi was behind him. “Kyoutani, who is the dragon?”

Another figure stood and moved to stand in front of one of the winged figures.

“He is my new master,” came the low snarl.

“What?” came another male’s voice. “No. I helped you, but that doesn’t mean that I’m your master.”

“Iwaizumi,” came a frightened male’s voice, “that’s a hunter.”

“Why is such a young hunter coming after you?” came the deep, lazy lull of another male’s voice.

“Hajime,” came a young girl’s tremulous voice, “I’m scared.”

The sounds of children whimpering — who sounded younger still — reached Kindaichi’s ears.

“So they’re sending  _ children _ after me?” the one Kindaichi presumed to be Iwaizumi said. “Why are they so intent on hunting me?”

“ _ You’re _ the dragon?” Kindaichi sputtered.

“The one that everyone is trying to kill? Yes.”

“Why are they hunting you?”

“I could ask you the same thing. You are, after all, the most recent hunter who took the job.”

“You killed my father.”

“A hunter killed my father. Another dragon killed my mother. I understand your reason for wanting to kill me; I did it in self-defense, but that might not matter now.”

“I,” Kindaichi paused, his heart squeezing at the new information. “I don’t want to kill you.”

His breath left him in a rush, shoulders sagging as he thought more about his initial decision to kill the dragon. Kunimi moved to stand beside him and place a hand on his shoulder, giving it a light squeeze.

Truth be told, Kindaichi felt like he would have a hard time sleeping after killing this dragon. He seemed so  _ human _ . It seemed that there were other dragons in here, if the smaller figures in the nest Iwaizumi had stood from was any indication, which raised the possibility that Iwaizumi was looking after them.

“... There are other dragons here,” Kindaichi observed, speaking slowly.

Iwaizumi nodded. “You’re right. Those would be my siblings.”

At this, Kindaichi shook his head and stepped back, swaying slightly when the actions made him feel like he was spinning. “Kunimi, I can’t do it.”

Kunimi turned his head to regard him from the corner of his eye. “I know. But if we do nothing, more hunters will be sent down here for him  _ and  _ his siblings. They’ll likely kill you, too, for protecting the dragons.”

“What should I do? I don’t want to kill him.” His knees buckled at the thought of other hunters possibly killing Iwaizumi and his siblings, along with everyone else in this cave.

Kunimi's other hand shot out to steady Kindaichi, pressing firmly against the small of his back.

“How about we trick them into thinking that you killed the dragons.” Kunimi looked towards the group inside once more.

“How can we do that? We need proof!” Kindaichi looked at his friend, only to realize how close they stood to each other. He stepped back, perhaps a little too fast, and took a few deep breaths to steady himself.

The demon prince gave a hum of thought. “Does it hurt when you lose a scale?”

“It does,” Iwaizumi said simply.

“Can you grow them back?” Kunimi pressed.

“Yes.”

“Would you mind if we took a scale from you and used it to trick the people of the city into thinking that we killed you?” Kunimi took a step forward. “They will stop sending hunters after you. Besides, I think there’s something you’ll want to know about.”

“What’s that?” one of the others — the one with the feathered wings — inquired.

Kindaichi saw where Kunimi was going with this and stepped forward so he stood next to his friend.

“We might need you as allies," he said, surprised when his voice didn't crack or tremble. "The demon king is planning an attack on everything that lives up here, including those of supernatural origin. We want to kill him and everyone who supports his cause before his plan can come to pass.”

“How bold of you, hunter, to come here with the intention to kill Iwaizumi, and then turn around and ask us for help,” the one with the lazy lull to his voice said. Kindaichi was starting to feel nervous, like they would eat him alive at any second. “I like it. It’s gutsy. If you can get the townspeople to leave Iwaizumi and his family alone, then we’re all yours. If you’re lucky, you’ll get two members of the fae on your side as well.”

Kindaichi could have cried tears of joy. The only thing that stopped him was Iwaizumi saying, “Wait.”

“What is it?” asked the one with the feathered wings.

“How can we trust them?” Iwaizumi’s voice was hardened, distrusting. “We’ve only just met them. You have a point of them coming here with the intent to kill me, if not my siblings as well. How do we know you’re telling the truth?”

Now, it was Kyoutani’s turn to speak. “Kunimi was my old master. He’s the demon prince, the one with the human. We worked together to find out what his father was planning and who supports him so that he could stop them.”

“Why did you leave Kunimi?” Iwaizumi pressed.

“He let me go. He’s not very ambitious; that isn’t what I would want in a master, and he realized this.”

The den fell quiet as Iwaizumi considered all of this.

Then, he said, “Okay. We’ll help you.”

He walked past them, outside of the den. “I will give you three of my scales. You hold up your end of the bargain; come back here when you’re done. If you have a plan for how to stop that attack, I’d like to hear it.”

Two days later, Kindaichi returned to the city alone. He had insisted that Kunimi stay behind with the others, to make it seem more convincing that they had actually fought the formidable dragon.

To make it more convincing, though this was more because they’d ended up needing to fight demons mere moments after Iwaizumi had pulled off his scales, Kindaichi had sustained a few pretty serious wounds. His clothes were torn where several of them were, though he wasn’t stupid enough to travel without caring for them.

He hoped he would never have to see a dragon yanking out its own scales again, though.

That was a  _ horrible _ experience.

The man who gave out the jobs and rewards seemed surprised when Kindaichi came back. Kindaichi didn’t blame him; every other hunter who had been sent out on this mission had died. He walked straight to him and dropped the scales on the counter. They were fairly large, one of the largest being from the main part of Iwaizumi’s body. For a moment, the man stared at the scales in a stunned silence.

“You,” he paused to take in a shuddering breath. “You did it.”

“I did,” Kindaichi responded. “I’d like my reward.”

The man nodded and reached underneath the counter to grab the pouch that contained the reward. “How did you do it?”

“I’ve been training as a swordsman for years. I’ve also put in a good amount of training with a gun.” Kindaichi gave a deep sigh, gaze flitting to the counter. “My partner was a skilled mage. I’m afraid he fell in battle while protecting me, though.”

The man dropped the pouch — it sounded heavy — onto the counter with a sigh.

“I’m sorry to hear that.” After a beat of silence, he added, “You have the thanks of the whole city. Your successful hunt has put many minds at ease.”

Kindaichi couldn’t help thinking that they were afraid for no reason.

“Of course,” was what he said instead. He had to keep up the act. “This marks the start of my journey as a hunter; I think I’ll travel to the village on the other side of the fae’s forest as my next step.”

“You don’t even want to stick around to celebrate?” the man asked.

“No, thank you,” Kindaichi replied. “I’m too young to drink, and I’ve got plenty of provisions to last this trip.”

“I see. Well, good luck on your journey.”

Kindaichi gave him his thanks and left the town to return to Iwaizumi’s den.

When he got there, he was sure to meet the fae that he had seen leaving Iwaizumi’s den two nights ago.

By the time Kindaichi arrived back at the den, he was exhausted, courtesy of the wounds he had received four days prior. Kunimi spotted him before he was even at the mouth of the den and he rushed out to help Kindaichi walk.

“You need to rest now,” he urged.

Kindaichi, thankful for his friend’s help, leaned his weight on Kunimi. It was enough to make the demon prince stumble. Nonetheless, he brought Kindaichi inside the den and lowered him to the ground near the back.

“Oh, is this the kid hunter?” a chipper voice asked before Kindaichi could fully relax.

“Yeah,” Iwaizumi responded, “Kunimi says his name is Kindaichi.”

“Should I heal his wounds?”

“If you could,” Kunimi said.

As the chipper-sounding male got closer to Kindaichi, one glance at his hands and ears told him that the older male was a fae, likely one of the fae he had seen leaving Iwaizumi’s den the other night.

“Hello, Kindaichi,” he said with a grin. “My name is Oikawa Tooru. I’m going to make sure you’re nice and healed up. If Yahaba was here, I would leave it to him, but he’s off training with Kyouken-chan, so it’s being left to me.”

Kindaichi gave the best smile he could muster. His eyelids felt heavy, and his eyes stung from how tired he was.

“Hi, Oikawa-san,” he murmured. “I’m Kindaichi Yuutarou.”

Oikawa gave a chuckle, his voice suddenly dropped to a deep, sultry sound. He held his hands over Kindaichi’s chest and he began to mumble a spell in a language Kindaichi didn’t understand. A soft, golden light emitted from his palms and spread around his body, warmth spreading from every spot they touched. As the light dissipated, Kindaichi realized that his pain had disappeared with it.

The exhaustion, however, stayed.

Kindaichi barely registered what was said to him when the pain faded; his eyes drifted shut without his consent and he fell into a dreamless sleep.

When he woke, it seemed to be early afternoon. Everyone that he had met the first time he had come to the cave was still present, with the addition of the fae who healed him and another fae who appeared to be a little bit younger than the first.

“The other half of our strategist pair is finally awake,” the older fae — Oikawa Tooru, if Kindaichi remembered correctly — said in a sing-song tone.

“His name is Kindaichi,” he heard Kunimi say.

His tone was as it usually was: lazy and quiet.

The situation hadn’t changed since Kindaichi’s four-day travel, it seemed; everyone still seemed to be on good terms. He thought he remembered planning to tell everyone the strategy his father had come up with just two years prior. Though, the thought of his father sent a pang through his chest.

“Are you hungry?” Iwaizumi asked. “I caught something earlier that I could cook up for you.”

Kindaichi sat up and shook his head. “It’s okay,” he murmured as he reached for his bag. “I have provisions that I packed before this trip.”

“Well, we’ve all been waiting for you to wake up so we can get that strategy you mentioned a few nights ago,” the one with feathered wings said.

“A few nights ago?” the one with curly hair asked. “That was last week.”

“Can we do introductions first?” Kindaichi cut in before they could get too carried away. “I don’t know who anyone is besides Kunimi and Oikawa-san, and Iwaizumi-san I only know by voice.”

To Kindaichi, it looked like everyone was exchanging looks, and then they were all looking at him. His stomach knotted at the weight of everyone’s stares; it may have been his imagination, seeing as he was the only human in the room, but the sensation was something he couldn’t shake.

“Well,” Iwaizumi started, “you know me, Oikawa, and Kyoutani.”

He gestured to each of them as he mentioned their names, the last being a male who wore a deep scowl and had blond hair that was cropped close to his head.

“I’m a fae general.” Oikawa said with a smile. He then gestured to the younger fae, whom Kindaichi noticed had stark white hair, even at his young age. “This is my pupil, Yahaba.”

“I’m Matsukawa,” the male with the curly hair said. “I’m a water deity.”

“I’m Hanamaki,” the one with feathered wings said. “I’m a trickster deity, but I work with plants more than tricks.”

“These are my younger siblings,” Iwaizumi said as he gestured to the three dragons behind him. “She’s Chihiro. The youngest two are twins and their names are Yasahiro and Yosuke.”

Kindaichi nodded as he took all of this in.

“So, what’s our plan?” Oikawa asked. “Don’t worry about filling us fae in on the situation with the demon king and queen and their supporters; Iwa-chan already did that for you.”

“This is my,” Kindaichi’s breath caught in his throat, and he reached into his bag for a bottle of water to swallow down the lump that sat there, “my father’s, more than mine or Kunimi’s plan.”

From the corner of his eye, Kindaichi thought he saw Iwaizumi’s head turn away.

He reached into his bag for some food as he explained the plan.

Once Kindaichi finished, Kunimi turned his attention to Hanamaki. “Have you ever even been in a fight, much less with a demon?”

“I haven’t fought anyone, but I was able to shake a hunter and an entire village off of my tail so I could flee,” Hanamaki said with a shrug. “Though, I don’t think that counts for much.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Kunimi said matter-of-factly as he frowned and pinched the bridge of his nose, heaving a sigh. “How much time do we have until the attack again?”

“Four years now, I think,” Kindaichi said. “It was just two years ago that you first brought this up to me, right?”

“So we’re not pinched for time,” Kunimi said. He turned his attention back to Hanamaki. “You need to train. I want you training against either myself or Kyoutani; since we’re both from the demon realm, we specialize in demon magic and will be able to give you an idea of what you will be up against out there.”

“Wait,” Kindaichi interrupted. “Wait, you  _ want _ to spar with him?”

“No,” Kunimi shook his head again. “But whether I want to or not, it’s something that has to happen. He could spar against Oikawa, too, but sparring with either of us would give him the best idea of what demon magic is like. It’s very different from fae magic.”

Kindaichi nodded and turned to Hanamaki, who seemed to be mulling over his options.

“Okay,” Hanamaki finally said. “Just so you know, it’ll probably have to be you, since Kyoutani is already sparring with Yahaba.”

Despite his grimace, Kunimi nodded.

“If either of you gets hurt, Yahaba or I can heal you,” Oikawa chirped. “We also have a sparring area that you can use while Kyoutani and Yahaba aren’t using it! My magic is able to prevent the other creatures of the forest from seeing or hearing you, so you shouldn’t be in danger of any kitsune, dryad, nekomata, naga, or shapeshifters finding you.”

“Kitsune live there?” Yahaba asked. “And shapeshifters?”

“Yes, I told you that there were portions of the forest that other creatures traverse. I figured it would be obvious that I was talking about any number of those,” Oikawa said in a tone that said that this information should all be common knowledge before Yahaba could continue asking about each of the creatures. “Of course, save for the naga, they are all considered to be distant relatives to the fae, but you can see why I wouldn’t want them to see any demons in the forest.”

Yahaba gave a thoughtful hum of acknowledgement and nodded, his gaze dropping to his hands in his lap.

“That’s beside the point,” Kunimi said before Oikawa could talk anymore. “Tomorrow, when those two are not training, I’ll spar with you. Don’t worry about hurting me, and I won’t worry about hurting you. We will treat it as though it is a real fight, without the threat of death.”

This drew a nervous laugh from the trickster god. “Wait, what? I’ve never been in a real fight; isn’t that a bit much for me?”

“No,” Kunimi said simply.

It gave Kindaichi a bit of an idea of what Kunimi had to go through during his training regime.

Did he have to worry about death looming over him if he wasn’t good enough?

The thought both frightened Kindaichi, and it made him a little angry on Kunimi’s behalf, though he knew that voicing it would just cause his best friend to brush it off and say that it was no big deal.

After a moment of silence, Oikawa gave a soft, thoughtful hum, drawing everyone’s attention to him.

“Kunimi, you do realize that he’s a god, right?” Oikawa asked.

Something about his tone of voice sent a shiver down Kindaichi’s spine.

“A god who doesn’t know how to fight still needs to learn,” Kunimi responded, his tone matching the bored look on his face.

“That’s not my point.” Oikawa shook his head. “My point here is that, even a god who doesn’t know how to fight can be a worthy opponent. What are you going to do if he manages to overpower you on day one or two?”

“Then,” Kunimi paused, gaze flitting from one person to the next, “I think you and I can fight him. Two-on-one.”

“Wait, what?” Hanamaki squeaked. “No way!”

“Makki,” Oikawa drawled, “I think that you’re underestimating yourself. Just wait until the sparring match; I’m sure you’ll do better than you think.”

The next day, as Kyoutani and Yahaba exited the training area, — only Yahaba garnered any wounds, which Hanamaki found frightening — Oikawa gestured for Hanamaki and Kunimi to enter the training area as he moved towards the other two to check and repair any damage that went beyond simple bruises or scrapes.

Kunimi sighed and slowly stepped into the training area with Hanamaki following closely behind.

While Hanamaki stopped to stand nervously near the edge of the clearing they had just entered from, Kunimi kept walking until he stood opposite him. He turned around, a slight grimace on his face.

“I want you to hide your presence from me and attack me,” Kunimi said.

Hanamaki blinked at him, and then nodded slowly. That seemed simple enough. Drawing his magic up from his core, Hanamaki wrapped it around himself like a cloak and willed it to hide him. When he was sure that he was hidden, he darted towards Kunimi from the right.

To his dismay, Kunimi turned towards him and he was flung back onto the ground; the shock from being hit caused his magic to disperse, leaving him lying on the ground and staring up at Kunimi in surprise.

Kunimi simply stared down at him with that deadpan expression he usually wore. “I could hear and feel your approach. You need to hide your presence from me; I shouldn’t be able to feel your magic or hear your movement. I shouldn’t even be able to smell you, and the air should remain undisturbed when you move.”

“What?” Hanamaki sat up.

How was he supposed to do all of that?

“You’re a trickster  _ god _ , right? You should be leaps and bounds beyond where the trickster demons are in skill. If they can do something as simple as that, you should be capable of doing the same.”

Hanamaki stood up, moved to the opposite end of the clearing, and tried again.

When the two finally exited the clearing, Hanamaki bore the brunt of their sparring session. Oikawa simply chuckled when he saw them and worked on getting him healed.

“How did he do?” he asked Kunimi as he finished muttering his healing spell.

“As of right now, he’s nothing impressive,” Kunimi said with a shrug. “He was barely able to figure out how to completely hide his presence from me; I’m still able to track him half the time.”

“What a shame,” Oikawa crooned. “I’m sure he’ll get it in due time. Kyouken-chan, Yahaba, it’s time for us to head back!”

Kyoutani and Yahaba joined the others while they walked. As the group approached Iwaizumi’s den, a voice called out to them. Well, not to  _ them _ as a group, but…

“Shigeru!”

Yahaba perked up at that, his gaze shooting towards the speaker. Oikawa’s eyes narrowed at this, and Hanamaki tilted his head in confusion at that. The fae general almost looked angry.

“Shinji,” Yahaba responded, sounding almost quizzical.

“Why does he know your true name?” Oikawa hissed. “Now everyone else knows it, too!”

Hanamaki could swear that he saw Oikawa glance towards Kunimi, who ignored him in favor of looking at the boy who had called out to Yahaba.

“I can explain,” Yahaba said quickly, to which Oikawa responded by narrowing his eyes.

By this point, Iwaizumi and Matsukawa were emerging from the den. While Matsukawa went to Hanamaki’s side, Iwaizumi stayed near the entrance of the cave, where Hanamaki could see Kindaichi peering out from behind him.

“What’s going on?” Iwaizumi asked, his voice quiet.

“A human knows Yahaba’s true name,” Oikawa practically cried. He turned his attention back to Yahaba and jabbed a finger to his chest. “You said you can explain; do so!”

“We’ve known each other for a long time,” Yahaba said quickly, stepping away from Oikawa. “He wandered into our kingdom when he was younger. His parents had been attacked by a dragon and had told him to run. He had been hurt too, so I had someone care for his wounds and stayed with him so that nothing happened to him.

“When he was cared for, I took him back to the city and erased his memories of our kingdom. He should not have remembered anything about us or our home; however, two weeks later, he came back. His parents had died from their wounds, and the trauma forced him to remember, and their business and recipes were left to him. I kind of…” Yahaba trailed off, looking to the other with a nervous expression.

The boy stepped forward, and at this distance, Hanamaki could see a scar running from his cheek, down past his jaw. He had a donkey with him, which wore a large pack on either side.

Was this boy a merchant? Based on what Yahaba was saying, it seemed like he ran his parents’ business now, so that option was very likely.

He stared at the group with wide eyes, gaze flitting from one person to the next.

“Yahaba,” he started, frowning slightly as he said the name, “taught me the magic that he knows. So that I could defend myself if that dragon came after me to finish the job.

“When I requested that a hunter find and kill the dragon, however, the hunter came back to the city and told us that, when he tracked down where it lived, the dragon was not in its den, and had not returned in the week that she camped out near its cave.”

Iwaizumi stepped forward, posture straightening as he exited the den. “That would be because I killed him. It was four years ago; he killed my mother and came to our den to kill off the rest of us.”

“Oh my,” he murmured. “How were you able to kill him? He was a full-grown adult; you must have been no older than ten years old.”

“Unlike him, my dragon form has front legs. It makes things easier when fighting.”

“Are you a merchant?” Hanamaki asked.

“A potions merchant, to be precise. My parents were well-known for brewing and selling excellent potions,” the boy nodded quickly, though the look in his eyes had turned forlorn. “They were travelling merchants and used magic to protect themselves. Their recipes have been left to me.”

Now, Kindaichi stepped out of the den.

“You’re from the Watari family, right?” he asked. “My father did a lot of work with your parents, and I’m sure he had worked with you at some point.”

Watari nodded at Kindaichi’s first question, but he seemed to mull over the information about the other’s father.

“Are you talking about Kindaichi-san?” He gestured to his eyes as he spoke. “You have his eyes.”

At this, Kindaichi looked towards the ground and nodded, his lips pressing into a thin line.

Watari seemed to understand what this meant, as he was quick to apologize.

Kindaichi only shook his head and gave the other a strained smile. “There was nothing that could have been done.”

Yahaba moved towards Watari and touched him on the shoulder, drawing the other’s attention to him. “Shinji, do you know about the attack the demons are planning to launch on this realm?”

Watari shook his head. “No, I don’t.”

“It’s in four years from now.” The look in Yahaba’s eyes was hard. “Do you think you can help us try to stop it?”

“Uh,” Watari turned to look at his donkey, “maybe. I’d need to keep Leila in the city, though.”

“You’re a powerful mage; the skill came naturally to you and,” Yahaba paused, and it no longer looked like he was looking at Watari, “your magic is powerful, especially when it comes to guarding and healing, though your offensive abilities are nothing to laugh at.”

Watari searched Yahaba’s eyes, and then he nodded. “I mean, I can definitely help. Like I said, I’ll need to go back to the city to check Leila into the stables. I’ll keep plenty of potions and raw materials on hand, though, for when the time comes.”

Yahaba’s gaze came back into focus and he nodded fervently. “I’m sorry to ask this of you, but I’m sure that you’ll be of great help to us.”

At this, Watari simply laughed and shook his head. He moved to stand beside his donkey once more. “I’ll be back in about a week.”

Yahaba nodded and bid him farewell. When Watari drew far enough away, Iwaizumi moved back into his den, with Kindaichi right on his heels. Oikawa gave Yahaba a look, which caused the younger fae to avert his gaze. Oikawa then looked at Iwaizumi as he disappeared into his den.

“Bye, Iwa-chan!” he called. “I’ll see you tomorrow!”

Iwaizumi turned to wave, and with that, the two fae were heading back into their forest.

Matsukawa looked at Hanamaki, and his eyes searched Hanamaki’s for a moment.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

When Hanamaki nodded, Matsukawa sighed and brushed the back of his hand along Hanamaki’s as they returned to Iwaizumi's den.


	5. Trouble finds Them

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, it's been a long time, hasn't it? Sorry for the wait!! I ended up not writing anything for eight months, though what drew me back in was working on NaNo this month ^^" Also, I've reworked the previous chapters a little bit; some things have been changed, so if things in this chapter don't make sense, then that's why!
> 
> Content Warning: This chapter is quite violent, so if you're squeamish, then you probably shouldn't read it.

One week later, as Yahaba, Kyoutani, Hanamaki, and Kunimi were walking back from the forest with Oikawa at the front, Hanamaki spotted Watari returning to the den with a large brown leather messenger bag slung over his shoulder and a pouch attached to the hip on the side opposite where the messenger bag rested.

“Hanamaki is now able to completely mask his presence,” Kunimi had been saying, his right hand rubbing at his left elbow. “He’s landed quite a few good hits on me. I’d like to see if he’s able to inflict imaginary pain that feels real on his opponents the next time we train together. It’s something that only a few trickster demons are able to do; I’m confident that he will be capable of doing it as well.”

“Good,” Oikawa said with a fervent nod. “Kyoutani?”

“Yahaba is now able to sense magic and see magical auras,” he said in a low voice. “His magic is no longer like a switch that he turns on as he needs it; it is active at nearly all times, save for when he falls asleep.”

“That’s good,” Oikawa chirped. “Once he masters keeping his magic active at all times, even while he’s sleeping, he’ll be unstoppable.”

Watari walked to Yahaba’s side and nudged him lightly with his elbow.

“You know your magic is impressive on its own, right?” he said with a reassuring smile. “This training is just going to make what’s already there that much more impressive and powerful.”

Yahaba turned a confident smile towards Watari. “Kyoutani says I’m improving pretty fast. He went from telling me that I’m ‘weak’, to saying that I have more potential.”

Kyoutani glared at Yahaba. “You’ve always had potential; you just never knew how to use it to its fullest extent.”

Watari laughed at that, earning a sharp look from Yahaba. He held his hands up in surrender, his chest still shuddering with suppressed laughter.

“Sorry, sorry,” he said soothingly, lowering his hands. “You two seem to get along.”

“Sure,” Yahaba said with a roll of his eyes, “that’s one way to say it.”

A gunshot rang out, causing Kyoutani to crouch low and shift into his hound form. Watari crouched down and covered his head, his gaze darting around as he searched for the source of the sound.

Then, suddenly Oikawa was on the ground, eyes squeezed shut as he gave a muffled shout of pain. Hanamaki stared at him in surprise, his legs feeling like led as he saw blood seeping from the wound that had torn through his right knee.

“Oikawa-san,” Yahaba cried.

He knelt down next to his senior, eyes widening as he saw blood leaking from a gunshot wound. Iwaizumi and Kindaichi were rushing out of the den, Matsukawa right on their heels. Iwaizumi’s eyes were frantic as he shouted something that couldn’t be heard over the sound of another gunshot.

This time, a searing pain tore through Hanamaki’s right shoulder and wing. As he fell, he heard a blood-curdling scream, one that he realized was his own when he saw Matsukawa appear in his vision, his eyes wide and brimming with surprise and fear.

“ _Ushijima_ ,” Oikawa hissed, a terrible glare directed towards someone to the left of the den, “you bastard.” 

Hanamaki pushed himself up with his good arm, his shoulder and wing  _ screaming _ in protest at the movement. Matsukawa was quick to press his shoulder against Hanamaki’s back, his arm wrapping around his waist to support his weight. When he saw the one Oikawa had called ‘Ushijima’, he recognized with a pang of fear that this was the hunter who had been at the village.

“I’ve been given a fairly good sum of money to bring your head back to the residents of that village,” he said, left hand still holding the gun up to aim it at Hanamaki.

“Those humans are scumbags, you know,” Oikawa spat. “They’re liars who would rather something they can’t own die, instead of live free.”

Ushijima glanced towards Oikawa, though his gaze quickly flitted across the group, pausing on Kindaichi and Watari.

“You have two humans with you.” He lowered his gun slightly. “Why?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” Oikawa’s voice was strained as he shifted his weight so he was no longer lying on his stomach, but on his side; he propped himself up with his arm and glowered up at Ushijima.

“And you have a demon with you,” Kunimi pointed out, moving to stand in front of the group.

With several pops and cracks, his demon form was apparent to all present. Watari gave a cry of shock at the sight, though he seemed to calm down when he noticed that Kindaichi remained as such.

“Why is a demon serving such a ruthless hunter?” Kunimi pressed, his wings spread wide to shield the others.

Ushijima glanced to the side then, his gaze tracking the movement of something. As his gaze tracked its movement to the front of him, a demon with red eyes, spiky red hair, and a tall, lanky figure appeared like smoke in air.

“Your highness,” he practically trilled, giving an exaggerated bow. “I never thought I’d see you here. What brings you to this realm?”

“You’re Tendou Satori, correct?” Kunimi remained unmoved by the other’s apparent mockery. “I’m likely here for the same reason you are.”

“I’m surprised the prince of our realm knows my name,” the demon named Tendou crooned, his eyes forming into crescent moons as his mouth drew into a cheshire smile. “You’re here to find forces to stop your dear daddy? How very noble and sweet of his own son to fight for his people. Are these your forces?”

“They are. And your hunter is injuring them.”

A sudden pressure landed on all present, weighing them down.

Kindaichi suddenly looked worried.

“He’s really mad,” he murmured to the others.

“From what I just heard,” Kunimi continued, unperturbed by Kindaichi’s words, “it’s because of a measly amount of money from a group of humans who were upset that they couldn’t use the powers of a noble god for their petty vengeance.”

Tendou spun around to face Ushijima.

“Do you hear that?” he drawled. “You made the little princey angry.”

Ushijima stared at Kunimi for long enough that the pressure became almost unbearable.

“You’re here to find a way to stop the demon king,” he said finally, tucking his gun into its holster.

“That I am,” Kunimi pulled his wings in towards his body, not quite folding them against his back, though the tension in his muscles never left. “As much as I loathe to ask, you seem like a formidable ally, and it would do us some good to have a fellow trickster on our side; our trickster needs to learn how to use his abilities.”

“Oh,” Tendou sang and spun around again, his hands clasped tightly together just below his chin, “yes, the trickster deity that Wakatoshi was hunting. I don’t know how much help I’ll be; he  _ is _ a god, while I’m just a measly demon.”

“Your knowledge would still do us some good,” Kunimi pressed.

“We do have the same goal,” Iwaizumi said in a tense voice from beside Oikawa, earning a swat and an irritated grumble from the latter.

Ushijima appeared to mull over this for a moment before giving a curt nod.

“All right,” he said, pulling a surprised look from Tendou. “But don’t expect me to stick around here; I have a home to stay at.”

“How are we going to fool the village into thinking that Hiro is dead?” Matsukawa asked, hand shaking as he pressed a cloth over Hanamaki’s wound.

“That shot,” Hanamaki started, his chest heaving with the effort to stay conscious and  _ speak _ through the dizzying pain, “would have dislodged a lot of my feathers. They’ll be bloody.”

Ushijima gave a thoughtful hum before nodding. “That will suffice.”

When he moved towards the group to gather the bloodied feathers from the ground, Matsukawa pulled Hanamaki closer to himself and bared his teeth at the hunter and Kyoutani gave a low growl. Even Kunimi made sure to keep an eye on the hunter, turning his head to keep him within view of his periphery. Ushijima paid them no mind, barely even glancing in Hanamaki’s direction as he placed the feathers into a pouch and turned to walk away.

“I’ll stop by bi-weekly to see if you have any plans for a counterattack,” he said as he walked away.

Tendou gave a wave as he turned to follow the other.

“I guess I’ll stop by weekly to help with training your trickster deity,” he sing-songed as he cloaked himself once more.

As the two disappeared, so did the intense pressure that had been coming off of Kunimi in waves. He fully folded his wings, his pointed ears lowered and twin tails flicking with mild irritation.

“Damn it,” Oikawa snarled, moving to sit all the way up and hovering his hands over his wounded knee. “This knee is never going to be the same. That  _ bastard _ .”

Watari moved closer to Hanamaki and hovered his hands over his shoulder, with Yahaba shifting closer to hover his hands over the back of his wing.

“It looks like your shoulder was just grazed,” Watari said. “No ligaments or bones would have been damaged.”

“The bullet missed your bone on your wing, as well,” Yahaba added.

With that, the three of them murmured the same spell, and while Oikawa’s soft, honey-colored healing magic enveloped his knee, their magic — a turquoise from Watari and a sandstone-colored from Yahaba — mingled and surrounded Hanamaki’s wounds, working to heal them.

When the pain was gone, he sagged against Matsukawa in relief, his breaths slowly becoming easier to bear.

“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa whined, all traces of his venom from earlier gone, save for the rage brimming in his soft brown eyes, “my knee is going to be messed up from this.”

Iwaizumi sighed and helped Oikawa up.

“That guy is so reckless,” he muttered, a stormy look in his green eyes. “Does it hurt to stand on?”

Oikawa stood still for a moment before leaning all of his weight on his good leg and shaking the newly healed on out. He grimaced slightly.

“It doesn’t hurt to keep it still, but I can tell that exerting it will cause pain,” he muttered bitterly. “There’s a dull ache otherwise, but that’s about it.”

“How are your shoulder and wing?” Matsukawa asked tentatively as he helped Hanamaki to his feet.

“Functional,” Hanamaki replied as he moved them both experimentally. “Like Watari and Yahaba said, it didn’t hit any bones of ligaments, so there shouldn’t be any permanent damage.”

Oikawa gave Yahaba a funny look, his rage from earlier having been replaced with mild confusion.

“Watari can use our magic?” he asked. “I thought I heard him using one of our spells.”

Watari turned to look at Oikawa, rising to his feet as he did so.

“Yes,” he said in a voice brimming with determination. “My mother was of the fae, and my father a human, so both human and fae magic are both within my capabilities.”

Oikawa blinked in surprise, before his lips curled into a smile. “That explains how you, what I assumed to be a mere human, got into our realm. Humans can’t enter the kingdom of the fae without an invitation from one of us. That, and you never specified what type of magic Yahaba taught you.”

Kunimi turned to everyone, his expression neutral. He looked towards Kindaichi with a slight tilt of his head.

“Do you mind if I retain this form?” he asked. “It’s more comfortable than disguising myself as a human.”

“Huh?” Kindaichi spluttered. “Uh, no? Why are you asking me?”

The corners of Kunimi’s lips twitched upwards into a ghost of a smile. “It used to frighten you.”

“Oh.” Kindaichi gave a soft laugh. “Okay. Well, it’s not so scary anymore.”

Iwaizumi’s siblings peered out of the den towards them.

“Hajime,” Chihiro whimpered, “is the hunter gone?”

“Yes,” Iwaizumi said with a nod, starting towards the mouth of the cave. “He shouldn’t be a danger to us anymore.”

She nodded slightly as the twins rushed forward to cling to their oldest brother, wailing about how frightened they were.

“It’s okay.” Iwaizumi stooped to pull them into his arms. “I won’t let anything happen to you three.”

As the eldest dragon entered his den, the rest of them followed suit, save for the two fae.

“We should probably get going for the night,” Oikawa said with an irritable sigh.

He flicked some of his hair out of his face so that it sat perfectly amongst the rest of his brown hair.

“Bye Iwa-chan,” he called, though his voice didn’t lilt as much as it usually did. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Iwaizumi turned to Oikawa and nodded to him.

“Take it easy,” he said, fixing Oikawa with a knowing look, to which the older fae responded by giving another irritated huff.

“I’ll be fine. Just worry about yourself.” He waved and started towards the forest, with Yahaba tossing a glance and a wave towards the others as he followed.

The rest of them settled down in the den, with Watari approaching Hanamaki to examine his wing.

“You’re missing the feathers around the area of damage, but they should grow back with your next moult,” he said, hovering his hand near Hanamaki’s wing, but not quite touching.

“All right,” Hanamaki said with a soft, tired sigh. “Thank you.”

As the terror from the night ebbed away, everyone curled up and one by one began to fall asleep.

During the night, Hanamaki woke with a start from a nightmare about Ushijima pointing his gun at him. Kyoutani, who typically slept in his wolf form, popped his head up at the noise, though he lowered it when he saw no intruders.

Hanamaki crept out from the den, flapping his wings to bring himself atop the cave so he could watch the full moon creep across the cloudless sky. As he sat there, he heard a shuffling noise to his right and nearly took to the air to get away, but a hand caught his wrist before he could jump to his feet.

“It’s just me,” came Matsukawa’s tired voice. “You have a nightmare or something?”

“Yeah,” Hanamaki said as he pulled his wrist from Matsukawa’s loosened grasp. “It happens a lot when hunters come after me.”

Matsukawa gave a soft hum of understanding. “Mind if I join you?”

Hanamaki turned a small smile to the other. “I’d appreciate the company.”

They sat there in silence, until the moon sat at its apex. At that point, Matsukawa gave a thoughtful hum.

“You know,” he started, turning to look at Hanamaki, “I think I love you.”

“What?” Hanamaki spluttered, heart jumping into his throat and cheeks burning as he turned to stare wide-eyed at Matsukawa. “Where did that come from?”

The water deity gave a shrug, dark eyes dropping to look at the stone between them. “I was just thinking about it.”

Hanamaki took a deep breath to calm himself, leaning over to knock his shoulder against Matsukawa’s.

“Well, just so you know, I’ve been feeling that way for a few months now.” His voice was still at a higher pitch than usual, though it was something he refused to acknowledge, even mentally.

Matsukawa snorted at that. “I know. You’re like an open book, you know.”

At this, Hanamaki leaned away and fixed the other with a glare. “You  _ knew _ and you didn’t  _ say _ anything?”

Matsukawa only shrugged. “I didn’t think it was the right time. I mean, you were still under the control of the villagers; I didn’t think they’d be terribly happy if they found out that their deities were dating each other or something.”

Hanamaki sighed and shifted his weight so his body was facing the other. “So, you think now is a good time?”

Smiling, Matsukawa mirrored Hanamaki’s movements and gave a nod. “I do, yes; do you?”

Heart skipping a beat so hard that he thought he was on the verge of a heart attack, Hanamaki nodded. Matsukawa reached out to brush webbed fingers through pink hair, his thumb brushing along a pale, freckled cheek.

Then, he leaned forward and pressed their lips together, and Hanamaki leaned into the contact, cheeks hot and tingling as he felt Matsukawa’s lips moving — feeling — against his. He pulled away, then, the kiss feeling too short and too long, too chaste and too intimate, all at once.

Hanamaki had to press his palms against the stone of the top of the cave to keep the world from feeling like it was falling out from under him. He looked down, eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks and as he let out a soft laugh.

“I really do love you, you know,” he said.

“I know,” Matsukawa said gently. “I love you too. Now,” he stood up and stretched, “why don’t we go back inside and try to catch some more z’s?”

Hanamaki stood up and nodded, body feeling like it was on fire.

They moved down the side of the cave and went back inside the den, creeping back into their corner to curl up against one another and go back to sleep.

The next day, dark clouds covered the sky; they were swollen with rain, spelling a storm. Oikawa gave a frustrated cry as he and Yahaba walked through the forest to get back to the den, though they were stopped by a clan of nekomata and a pair of tengu that appeared to be hanging out together.

The two species — who were closely related to the fae — watched them warily before one of the black-haired nekomata stood up and tilted his head at Oikawa, a wide grin pulling at his lips.

“You’re one of the fae generals, correct?” he said, drawing the attention of the tengu who had grey hair that was streaked black and styled into two spikes.

“Ooh,” he drawled, his voice almost unbearably loud in the calm of the forest. He hopped down from the tree he had been perched in, strong, speckled grey and black wings flapping once to slow his descent. “A fae general? Are you sure? These two come through here a lot, don’t they?”

“Yes, Bokuto-san,” a black-haired tengu with teal eyes, a bow on his shoulder, and a quiver on his back said in a soft voice. “They have friends outside of the forest.”

He lowered himself from where he had been perched next to the supposed “Bokuto”, hands with terrifyingly large claws keeping hold on the branch until his feet made contact with the ground.

“Yeah, you stupid owl,” the nekomata with black hair sneered playfully. “Can’t you see his magic? He’s got a pretty impressive reservoir of it.”

Yahaba jumped with a barely suppressed screech as a nekomata with black hair that was short in the front and long in the back moved towards him from his blind spot, large eyes observing him and mouth twitching up into a small smile at his reaction.

Oikawa heaved a sigh, still irritable from the events of the day prior.

“Have we invaded your territory?” he asked. “Or, your shared territory?”

“No, we’re just hanging out here,” Bokuto said in an unnecessarily loud voice, his lips stretched into a wide grin.

“Bokuto-san, please lower your volume,” the other tengu said, earning a bark of a laugh from the noisy nekomata.

“Our clans get along pretty well,” he said, and then he gestured to a nekomata with blond hair that had black roots and calico markings on his ears and tail. “We often train together, even though Kenma hates it.”

“There’s another tengu tribe somewhere in this forest,” Bokuto said with a wide grin, gesturing southward. “We’re from the owl tribe, and they’re the crow tribe.”

“We’re actually here to talk about a group of poachers we saw a little while ago,” a nekomata with a blond mohawk and tiger stripes on his ears and tail said, walking up to stand next to the loud black-haired nekomata. “We’re trying to plan an invasion of their base.”

Oikawa pinched the bridge of his nose, a dull ache in his head letting him know that he wouldn’t be able to take much more of this.

If only Iwaizumi was here.

“Can we get some names before you get too carried away?” he said. “My name is Oikawa, and this is my student, Yahaba.”

“Oh,” the first nekomata said, “sure, yeah. I’m Kuroo and this is Kenma.”

He reached down to lift the calico-patterned nekomata from the ground by the back of his shirt, akin to how one might lift a cat by its scruff. This drew an irritated huff from Kenma, who squirmed out of his hold and moved so he was partially hidden by a tree.

“I’m Yamamoto,” said the tiger-patterned nekomata. “The one who scared the crap out of your student is Fukunaga; he’s a quiet one.”

Fukunaga waved when the attention was drawn to him.

“My name is Yaku,” said a short nekomata with tabby markings on his tail and ears.

“I’m—” Bokuto started, clawed hands lifting high in the air as his chest swelled with excitement.

“They know, Bokuto-san,” the black-haired tengu cut him off, reaching up to pat the other on the shoulder. “My name is Akaashi.”

He released his hold from Bokuto’s shoulder as the older tengu sagged, his arms falling to his sides, to bow slightly in greeting.

“Well, now that we have the introductions out of the way, you may proceed,” Oikawa said, clapping his hands together with a grin.

“Oikawa-san,” Yahaba murmured, “what about training?”

Oikawa tutted at him, holding a finger up to quiet his questions.

“If I agree to help you with your issue, then you have to help me as well.”

Kenma gave a noncommittal hum, glancing Oikawa’s way with a sharp, calculating gaze. All the nekomata turned expectantly towards him — including Kuroo, whom Oikawa had assumed to be their leader. Even Bokuto and Akaashi turned to look at him.

Oikawa could sense that, though the other nekomata — save for Yaku, whose magic gave him strong defensive and healing capabilities, and Fukunaga, whose magic gave him relative strength, but powerful elemental powers — held immense physical power, Kenma’s magic gave him formidable psychic powers.

“I want to help him,” Bokuto said, his golden eyes shining to match the dazzling grin he wore.

“Shut up for a second,” Kenma grumbled irritably. “You don’t even know what you’re agreeing to.”

Kuroo threw his head back and laughed, loud and full of mirth.

“That’s hilarious,” he turned to jab Bokuto in the ribs with his elbow, though none of this stopped the tengu from grinning.

“What do you need help with?” Kenma asked, turning his gaze towards Oikawa once more.

Oikawa smiled and explained the situation with the demon king, queen, and their supporters.

“We have four years to prepare,” he said as he finished with the explanation.

Kenma’s expression soured as he heard what Oikawa wanted help with. He sighed, ears and tails drooping as the air escaped his lungs.

“We can help,” he said, gaze on the ground. “My clan members are strong, so we can do something to help to ensure your success. It would be a pain if this realm was ravaged, since we all live here.”

As he spoke, his gaze flitted to the side, as though he were reading something.

“All right,” Oikawa crooned. “What did you need help with?”

“A young nekomata was kidnapped from our clan by a group of poachers who had paid some hunters to help them,” Kuroo said, suddenly deathly serious. “He’s strong, but he’s also a little bit clumsy, though I have reason to believe that he was injured by the hunters while they were taking him.”

“Even a clumsy airhead like him would be able to fend off anyone who tried to snatch him away,” Yaku said with a nod.

“We can track him, but depending on the number of hunters and poachers who are there, we may need help,” Yamamoto said, his expression fiery.

“If you can track him, then lead the way,” Oikawa said. He then turned his attention to his apprentice. “Yahaba, can you go let Iwa-chan know what’s going on?”

Yahaba gave Oikawa a quizzical look.

“Do you want him to help you?” he asked.

“I’m stronger with him at my side.” Oikawa smiled at Yahaba, giving his shoulder a light push to get him going.

When Yahaba split from the group, the nekomata got to work on tracking their missing comrade, with Oikawa and the tengu right on their heels.

Iwaizumi and his siblings were just finishing a meal when Kyoutani heard the sound of someone walking towards the den and he popped his head up and turned to look at the mouth of the cave. He stood and shook himself off, shifting into his human form and approaching the source of the sound, eyes squinted against the light coming from outside.

He huffed softly at the sight of Yahaba approaching by himself.

What had his idiot mentor gotten himself into? Or had his knee kept him from coming today?

“Iwaizumi-san,” Yahaba called when he got close enough to the den, “Oikawa-san is going to help a nekomata clan and their tengu friends get one of their kidnapped packmates back. He told me to let you know, because he wants your help.”

Iwaizumi let out a frustrated growl at this and stood up.

“That idiot is always up to something, isn’t he?” he muttered, walking to the water outside of the den to clean up.

“I want to help,” Kyoutani said, trailing after the dragon.

“Oh?” Yahaba said smugly. “I didn’t know you’d be interested in helping Oikawa-san out.”

Kyoutani scoffed at this. “No. I want to help  _ Iwaizumi _ .”

“Oh.” Yahaba blinked dumbly.

Iwaizumi turned to look at Kyoutani when he was done cleaning up.

“All right,” he grunted. “The more people to help look after that idiot, the better, I guess.”

“I’ll track him for you,” Kyoutani offered in a grumble.

Iwaizumi laughed at that. “While I appreciate the offer, I can track him myself.”

He gestured towards the forest with a nod of his head and started walking. Kyoutani turned to look at those who were left in the den; all of Iwaizumi’s siblings were huddled together in their nest and Kunimi sat near the mouth of the cave, Yahaba going to join him.

“We’ll keep an eye on things over here,” Yahaba called after them.

“Thank you,” Iwaizumi said over his shoulder.

Within a minute, the two came across the group of nekomata and the pair of tengu, each of whom was introduced to them courtesy of Oikawa, and in turn, he introduced the two newcomers to the others.

Once the introductions were out of the way, the group continued on their way, with the nekomata at the front.

After about two hours, they approached what looked to be an encampment with several tents, and cages towards the back of the camp. There were the sounds of a low growling coming from the direction of the cages.

“This one is too loud and aggressive,” they heard a voice saying, near to where the distressed noises were coming from. “Instead of selling it, we’d be better off just killing it for its fur.”

The growling rose in volume.

“We move in as a group,” Oikawa said. “The nekomata who specialize in strength will be on the outside, as will Iwa-chan and Kyouken-chan. Magic users will be on the inside, and the tengu will fly in from above to flank them.”

Kyoutani let out a low growl, bristling at the nickname and the one giving him orders. He hated taking orders from Oikawa.

Akaashi shared a look with Bokuto before pulling a black bird mask with teal accents and a hooked beak similar to a barn owl over his eyes, with Bokuto copying his movements with a grey mask with black spots and horns akin to a horned owl.

The two took to the air, powerful wings sending gusts of air strong enough to nearly topple Kenma and Yaku.

“Now,” Oikawa said firmly, gesturing for them to move forward.

Kenma, Yaku, Fukunaga, and Oikawa were moved to the center of the group as they rushed into the poachers’ base of operations. The nekomatas’ fingernails grew into sharp claws, their teeth bared to show impressive canines.

Kyoutani shifted into his wolf form, the feeling of being in his true form not too dissimilar to stretching a muscle that begged for the relief of movement. While the humanoid fighters stayed in their formation, he darted back and forth, weaving around weapons that were swung at him and catching skin in his jaw.

There was a reason hellhounds were hunted when they were released from their master; they were fast and strong, their instincts in battle a ferocious thing. Oftentimes, they killed as savagely as their demon counterparts did, and battlefields were often razed by them.

Demons feared the idea of hellhounds finding a capable master who could use them against the demons.

Distantly, he heard Kuroo shout, “How the hell did you get a hellhound on your side?”

“Thank Iwa-chan for that,” came Oikawa’s chipper response.

Kyoutani saw a sword being swung at him as he neared the cages — different from the spears that the poachers were using. He flung his weight to the side, the blade whizzing past him and nicking the ends of some of the fur on Kyoutani’s shoulder as it came past.

He lunged for the hunter, and the blade he’d dodged sliced upwards from his jaw, across his left eye. Kyoutani bit savagely into the hunter’s neck as a knife was plunged into his right side, ripping a growl from the hellhound as he tore the flesh from the hunter’s throat.

“Kyouken-chan,” Oikawa shouted. “Iwa-chan, go help him!”

The ground shook as Iwaizumi took on his dragon form, drawing startled shouts and screams from the hunters and poachers.

“Feel free to kill them,” Kuroo called. “They’ll just be a pain in the ass for you later, now that they’ve seen your true form!”

A crunching sound to Kyoutani’s right drew his attention away from the hunter he had killed, where he spotted Iwaizumi holding another hunter tightly within his jaws. The knife that the hunter clutched Iwaizumi’s jaws had been wielding was still buried deep within the flesh and muscles of Kyoutani’s side; if he was lucky, none of his internal organs would have been hit.

Though he supposed Oikawa’s magic was strong enough to heal any internal damage.

At some point during Kyoutani’s mission in taking out as many opponents as he could, Bokuto had dropped from the air to fight a group closest to the cage. He mostly grappled with his opponents, but sometimes his claws would tear ribbons of their flesh out with a swipe of his hand.

Akaashi had landed on one of the largest cages — one that contained a silver adolescent lion with piercing green eyes — and had begun shooting arrows down on those who would dare to attempt attacking Bokuto while his back was turned.

Before long, the battlefield fell silent, the only noises being the harsh breathing of the victors.

Kyoutani shifted back to his human form, immediately doubling over at the searing pain in his side. He couldn’t see out of the eye that had been sliced; whether that was because his eye had been damaged, or because of the blood gushing down his face was beyond him.

Iwaizumi shifted as well, crouching down to check on Kyoutani.

“Oikawa,” he called, pausing when he turned to look at the fae general.

Kyoutani followed his gaze to see the brunette limping heavily on his right leg.

Oikawa caught Iwaizumi’s gaze, and his own darkened slightly.

“I’m  _ fine _ ,” he spat. “The bad weather is making my knee act up, that’s it.”

“That, and you probably overexerted it,” Iwaizumi hissed. “You should probably rest when we get back to the den. Your magic can reach that clearing from the cave, right?”

Oikawa’s gaze dropped, the look in his eyes forlorn and  _ bitter _ . “It can.”

“Good, then you’ll rest there. Try to stay off your feet for a while.” Iwaizumi gestured for Oikawa to come over to them with a jerk of his head towards Kyoutani. “He needs medical attention.”

Oikawa limped over to them, carefully lowering himself to crouch in front of the hellhound. He surveyed the damage, grimacing when he saw the blade sticking out of Kyoutani’s side.

“I’ll tend to your face first; we’ll need to remove that blade afterwards so that you don’t lose too much blood,” he said, hand moving to cover the wound on Kyoutani’s face.

He murmured his healing spell, and his magic flowed from his palm and into the cut, seeping into it and stitching the skin together. Then, he waved his hand in front of the left side of Kyoutani’s face, nodding in satisfaction when he looked towards the movement.

“Good, you can still see,” he said, sounding pleased with himself. “Iwa-chan, can you grab the knife and pull it from his side when I give you the okay?”

Iwaizumi’s gaze hardened, but he nodded, one hand coming up to grab Kyoutani’s shoulder and the other gripping the handle of the knife — which had also been pushed slightly into the hellhound’s side with the force at which the blade had been shoved into his flesh — and he looked up at Oikawa, waiting with steady hands.

“Pull it out fast, okay?”

Iwaizumi nodded, gaze still locked on Oikawa’s. For a moment, the two just watched each other as Oikawa moved his hands to hover over the wound, and then he gave an almost imperceptible nod.

The blade was tugged free of Kyoutani’s flesh, and suddenly, he knew why Iwaizumi had braced one hand on his shoulder.

His side felt like it had been lit on fire, his throat already feeling ragged from the scream that had torn itself free from it. His body had jerked away from the sensation, and when it found that it could not move further than Iwaizumi’s hand, it convulsed from the agony.

Then the searing pain was gone, and he slumped forward, his breaths coming out in short rasps as his visioned went dark.

When he recovered from the process, Kyoutani found that Iwaizumi had moved his free hand to press his palm against his chest so that he remained mostly upright.

“You still with us?” he asked when Kyoutani lifted his head, earning a nod from the hellhound. “Good.”

With that, Iwaizumi stood, pulling Kyoutani up with him, and he had to blink the darkening edges away from his sight from the abrupt movement. The dragon pulled Kyoutani’s arm over his shoulder to support his weight, turning to watch as the nekomata freed the silver lion from his cage.

He limped out of his cage, a low growl and the heavy stench of fear apparent as he watched Oikawa; the blood on his flank was a stark contrast against his pale fur.

“Ah,” Kuroo said as he peered at the wound, “so that’s why he had a hard time fighting; this is a pretty nasty injury.”

Oikawa limped over to the lion and held his hands over the wound, once more murmuring his healing spell. His honey-colored magic seeped into the wound and fixed it up, leaving a large scar in its wake.

The lion then moved to stand near the nekomata, bowing his head when he got close enough. It was at this point that Kyoutani noticed that he also had two tails — nekomata could take on the forms of giant wildcats?

“It’s okay,” Yamamoto said, his voice surprisingly soft and soothing, “these guys helped us save you!”

The lion’s eyes lit up and he shifted into a human form. He was tall and lanky, skin pale and green eyes holding a bright joy within.

“Thank you,” he exclaimed, bowing only when Yaku slapped his back.

Kenma nodded.

“Yeah,” Kuroo said, his lips curling into a smile as he reached up to wipe some blood from a shallow cut on his cheek, “thanks a lot for your help.”

“Do you want some help getting back?” Bokuto asked.

Iwaizumi looked at Oikawa and shook his head. “No, we can manage.”

“If you insist,” Yamamoto said with a shrug.

“We should get going,” Kenma said, turning away.

And just like that, all of the nekomata gave bows of varying depth in thanks, before turning away and walking back down the path to the forest. Bokuto waved excitedly, while Akaashi bowed his head, and they turned to follow the nekomata.

Iwaizumi nudged Kyoutani towards Oikawa, and though the hellhound grimaced, he approached the fae general and stood next to him, refusing to allow the other to support his weight.

Iwaizumi then shifted into his dragon form, bowing his head so that they could climb on. When they did, he brought them back to his den, where the two were ordered to rest for a while.

The rain that had been building within dark clouds started pouring shortly after they had arrived.

“Damn,” Yahaba said, eyes stuck outside, “I guess there’ll be no training for today.”

“To be fair,” Matsukawa said, peering at Kyoutani from where he was laying with Hanamaki, “there probably wouldn’t have been any training for you and Kyoutani anyway.”

Kyoutani gave an indignant huff from where he had lay down. Shifting into his hound form, he pressed his chin into the ground between his paws and closed his eyes to rest his tired body.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your patience, if you're still sticking around to see where this story is going! I love your support; it means so much to me! Also, I'm no longer active on Tumblr when it comes to creative stuff, like writing and drawing, so you'll find most of my ramblings pertaining to such things on [my Twitter](https://twitter.com/kyou_kan_)!
> 
> Oh, also, if you enjoyed, please leave a kudos and consider dropping a comment ^u^


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